When Wand and Sword Collide
by GreenWithAwesome
Summary: Harry Potter and Percy Jackson have their lives switched, leaving them without memories of their past. At first, they just want to remember who they are and return to their friends and family, but as a prophecy forsees a dark threat beginning to rise in the Wizarding and demigod worlds, can Harry and Percy team with Annabeth, Hermione and Ron to work as one from afar?
1. I Join the House of Foreign Mushrooms

Hi, it's GreenWithAwesome (GD) here; suddenly wanting to try a Percy Jackson/Harry Potter crossover even though I just finished my oneshot earlier today. This was written on a whim, but I hope it's still coherent. May have some shipping in later chapters, which will all be canon pairings.

Hope you enjoy it~

**Warning: Do not read the reviews if you do not wish to be spoiled!**

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"Er, Harry," said a ginger kid, looking over me dubiously, "You're drooling."

I wanted to sleep, rest my head on this deliciously soft pillow. I had a weird dream, which, for some reason, didn't really surprise me. Something nagged at me telling me I always had weird dreams. But this… was very strange.

A woman in a toga was patting my hair down, speaking to me in a soothing voice. Although the voice was pleasant, it seemed hurried, almost desperate. I couldn't remember a thing she was saying to me, either. And then I'd woken up to this ginger guy shaking me like a martini.

I was really tired, so I waved him away, but the ginger boy persisted.

"You better get up soon," he said, turning away and yawning really loudly, "Breakfast is going to leave without us."

What struck me most about this boy was his accent: clear-cut British, no doubt about it. Not upper-class Queen Elizabeth II British, but, sort of common-like Cockney. The stereotypical London taxi driver instantly popped into my head, but I figured that was a bit farfetched.

I rubbed my sore head. My black hair fell tousled and wild all over the pillow. Finally I sat up, groaning.

"Urgh," I said, to no-one in particular, "I feel awful." Then I widened my eyes.

Where the heck was I?

I scanned the room, almost certain I had not gone to sleep here. The room was small, and there were five poster beds, made of oak material, lined like a ring around an old furnace thing that pumped out heat in the middle of the room. Old-style castle windows let the dull light flow inside the cold walls. Everything was laden with red-and-gold material.

The ginger kid turned around, "You _sound_ awful, too-" He was cut off when he saw my face. His face twisted into disbelief and he jumped back, startled.

"What the-? Who the bloody hell are you and what have you done with Harry?!" He suddenly grabbed a long, thin stick from his bedside table and pointed it threateningly at me. Uh-huh, I felt _really_ intimidated. Besides, what kind of a question was that to ask someone who had just woken up?

… Actually, who _was_ I?

"Percy Jackson," I mumbled, feeling a rush of nostalgia at the name. Yes, I was certain my name was Percy Jackson. It's a cool name, too, so obviously it's mine, "Yeah, I'm Percy Jackson. Who're you? Where am I?"

"Don't play dumb with me," accused the red-head. He seemed to be the same age– a tall and thin, gangly ginger-haired boy with freckles and bright blue eyes, "Where is _Harry_?!"

"I don't even know who Harry is," I said genuinely, rubbing my eyes, and yawning like it was no-one business, "You just called me Harry, didn't you?"

He looked shocked at my answer, "Because I thought you were him. You have the same hair and eye colour – well, sorta'… His are more green than blue," he stared at me for ages and I was starting to feel self-conscious, "You're sleeping in his bed, too. Where is he?!"

I threw up my hands, in defeat, "I don't know!" There was no-one else in the room except for the ginger boy, and I didn't really like his company right now, "I… don't remember anything. Except I'm certain my name is Percy Jackson."

The red-headed boy lowered his stick, but still glared at me, "I'll ask Hermione about this…" he murmured, "Don't you go anywhere!"

Hermione. That name ringed in my mind. Suddenly my thoughts passed over to Helen of Troy. Yeah, she had a daughter called Hermione, didn't she? The red-head sidled out of the room, not looking away and pointing his stick at me.

I took this time to wander around. I got out of bed, slipping my feet into a pair of comfy red slippers. There was a chair next to the bed, with a red-and-gold sweatshirt hanging over the back. A sleek, black stick, much like the one the ginger had, was laying on the chair, too, along with a pair of thin, round glasses. I guessed these must have been Harry's, whoever he was. I stood up, noticing I was only in my boxers, and grabbed the sweatshirt – well, if Harry wasn't here he wasn't going to mind, was he? As I did so, I accidentally knocked the glasses off the chair and sent them flying halfway across the room, snapping the mid-section between the two lenses.

"Uh oh…" I said. I didn't think Harry would appreciate that. Quickly throwing on the sweatshirt, I grabbed the glasses and placed them back on the seat. Hopefully, no-one would notice that.

Just then, the ginger kid came back in, followed closely behind by a girl with brown, bushy hair and a serious expression. It reminded me, again, of a familiar face, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. The girl, who I presumed would be Hermione, was wearing what looked like typical British school-uniform, with the red-and-gold design.

She spoke in a British accent too, but more posh, "Ron, I don't think-" she gasped when she saw my face.

"Er, hi," I said.

"You're really _not_ Harry," Well spotted, I wanted to say, but I didn't because I didn't think the situation was appropriate for jokes. She came closer and inspected me like an object at a museum. I grinned sheepishly.

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm Percy Jackson," I said, glancing backwards. I really hoped they wouldn't notice the broken glasses.

"B-but," she mumbled, turning to her ginger friend Ron, "How-?"

Ron shrugged, "I don't know – he was in Harry's bed and everything. He _claims_ he doesn't remember why though." He eyed me suspiciously, like I wasn't there to take offence.

"I honestly don't remember anything," I clarified, "But I do remember that my name is Percy and I definitely did not fall asleep in a castle in the middle of England."

"Scotland," Hermione corrected, scratching her chin, "You have an American accent – New York, I think."

New York – the name sent alarm bells ringing. I felt like I had to be there.

Hermione looked worried, "I don't know what's going on here, but we can't worry for now. Percy, get dressed – I'm sure you can borrow some of Harry's clothes. Ron, you do the same. Meet me outside in ten minutes." And without another word, Hermione strode out of the room, lips pursed and thinking hard. She had that kind of expression that really knocked on my brain for some reason.

Ron frowned, glaring at me, but he put his evil stick on his bed.

"I still don't trust you, but if you really don't know who you are and where you come from…" he trailed off, walking over to his closet and grabbing some clothes, "I hope Harry is okay, wherever he is…"

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I cringed at the clothes Ron had pointed me too. It was school uniform – a white collared shirt, black pants, the red-and-gold tie, black sweater (or 'jumper', as Ron had called it) lined with red and gold, and finally, a long, black and red cloak with the house crest on. I stared at it.

"Gryffindor," I mumbled. Ron looked up from his underwear draw.

"Yeah, our school house," he said uncertainly, like he wasn't sure whether or not he should be sharing this information. He continued, "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin. Four houses."

"Sounds like names for a bunch of mushrooms…" I said, throwing the cloak over me, "'And here, kids, is the wild fungi Gryffindor. You can tell it is by its red and gold complexion.' Why so much red and gold anyway?"

Ron was laughing, having actually found the mushroom joke funny, "Red and gold is the colour of our house. Hufflepuff gets yellow and black, Ravenclaw gets blue and bronze and Slytherin gets green and silver."

Percy nodded, then realising he had forgotten the one crucial question.

"Where am I, exactly?"

Ron was fully dressed, adjusting his tie. He looked a little dubious.

"Hogwarts," he finally said, "Hogwarts-"

"That's gotta' be a foreign disease…"

"-School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

My mouth nearly dropped open. Woah, back up. Witchcraft and wizardry?

"But… that's the stuff of myths and legends, right?" I laughed nervously. No way this guy was telling the truth. Ron sighed.

"Must be a Muggle or something…" he muttered, taking his stick from his bed and pointing it at Harry's glasses. I swallowed. Oh, gods, he noticed that I broke them.

Clearing his throat, Ron said something like "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" in a ridiculously British way.

"Bless you?" But behind me, half of Harry's glasses floated into the air, obeying Ron's every command. The corners of my mouth dropped like a brick as he made them levitate in front of my face. Eventually, he put half of the spectacles down on the chair again.

"It's magic," he said, as if it were obvious, "This is my wand."

"Well, excuse me I haven't been making glasses float my whole life," I rolled my eyes, "Er, yeah, about that. Sorry, I kinda' broke them."

Ron strode over and inspected them, his lower lip rising on his face.

"Don't worry about it; Harry does it all the time," then his voice caught his throat when he realised I wasn't Harry, "Hurry up, we have to meet Hermione."

Well, it wasn't like I knew what I was doing, anyway. All dressed, I took Harry's wand and slipped it into my cloak, then proceeded to follow Ron outside of the dormitory. We ended up on a landing overlooking the lounge area, and I almost did a double-over – it was huge and round like a tower, with red, plush sofas dotted around a fireplace, over a soft carpet. The walls had multiple paintings and wall-hangings. A few students, dressed like we were, were sitting around, reading, chatting or playing chess.

I was about to comment when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a painting move. The painting, an old man sitting poised in a chair, regarded me strangely.

"You don't look like Harry Potter," he said quizzically.

"You don't look like an ordinary painting," I countered. The man in the picture, to my surprise, looked very offended and turned away (somehow that's possible).

Hermione looked at us doubtfully, "Don't insult them. They take offence for ages and then the rest of the paintings tend to gang up on you."

"Wait, there's more?" I cocked an eyebrow. Ron sighed, slightly aggravated.

"Yes, they talk. Can we go to breakfast now and find out about Harry?" Hermione nodded wordlessly, and beckoned me to follow. She and Ron walked a little ahead, discussing probably me. Hermione had a little bottle in her hand, but she slipped it into her pocket before I could say anything.

They talked all the way to the mess room. Well, they call it the Great Hall. I didn't really care – I was too engrossed at the sights. When we exited the lounge area, we were in a huge hallway with staircases that shifted position every time you looked their way.

The Great Hall was an even bigger shocker. Like the inside of a cathedral, the walls were ordained with wall-hangings of the four houses, with four long tables sitting in the middle – two to the left and two to the right. At the very back of the hall was an elevated platform with a table sitting horizontally. Older men and woman wearing bizarre clothing sat at it, and I could only presume they were the teachers. Behind them, was a huge stain-glass window depicting four very mediaeval-looking people. The ceiling was the sky, I swear it, and there were thousands of wax candles hanging limply in the air. I gulped, feeling like the odd-one-out. Then I spotted the ghosts, and I didn't feel so extraordinary anymore.

Ron and Hermione walked down to the table on the near right, taking a seat somewhere in the middle. I followed them wordlessly, about to sit next to them when Ron he eyed me suspiciously. Then I gave a sheepish grin and sat opposite instead. The table was mostly empty, except for a few stragglers, hurrying their dishes.

The food on the tables was fit for a king. Portions of every breakfast dish in the universe sat upon this table – toast, cereal, pancakes, you name it, it was here. My mouth watered – I hadn't realised how hungry I was until now. I took a plate of pancakes, drizzled it with blue syrup and tucked in.

Ron was less modest about his portion. He had taken four slices of toast, all buttered and a goblet – yes, they have goblets instead of cups. Stylish, much? – full of orange juice. I took a goblet too, only to realise this definitely wasn't Tropicana.

When Hermione spotted my repulsed face, she said, "Pumpkin juice. Very healthy,"

I replaced the goblet on the table, wiping my mouth on a napkin, "Good to know."

Hermione stared at me worriedly.

"Who are you?"

I sighed frustratingly, biting into my pancakes, "Percy Jackson, for the bajillionth time. I don't remember anything else. My memory's all misty-"

I froze mid-bite. Misty… Mist… why was that all so familiar?

Hermione seemed to notice this, "Maybe someone cast Obliviate on you… but that doesn't explain why you were in Harry's bed."

Ron suddenly gasped, staring at me like my face was melting, "Oh, Merlin's beard, maybe you _are_ Harry!"

I looked at him in disgust, "No, I am definitely not Harry. My eyesight is perfect, thank you very much. Maybe you need to get yours checked out."

Ron stiffened and he clenched his goblet. Hermione sighed.

"It's a plausible theory, but I just don't think it's the right one. But, good thinking, Ron," she said, obviously hoping to try and cheer him up, but it didn't seem to be working, "Look, this isn't helping. We've got lessons. Everyone's going to wonder where Harry is so-"

"I'm going to pretend to be him?" I asked, wondering if I could pull of a decent British accent.

"No," she said, delicately spooning up some cereal, "We're going to the headmaster."

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Naturally, when Hermione said 'headmaster' I feared for my life. He was going to accuse me of being an imposter, then throw me out with nothing to go on. I'd have rather shoved a wand up my nose.

Hermione seemed perfectly relaxed, though, as did Ron, after we had guzzled up breakfast and we made our way up too many sets of stairs to a dead end with a statue tucked into a tower.

"We went all that way just to reach a dead end?" I asked incredulously, my feet feeling heavy.

"Sherbet lemon," Hermione spoke clearly.

"Yes, please," I replied, but instead of her taking the candy from her pocket the statue rumbled to life, twisting on the spot and rising up the shoot. Underneath was a set of stairs, rising further upwards.

"Cool," I said, nodding impressively.

"Le's go," said Ron, ushering me onto the steps as he and Hermione jumped on. It was ridiculously fun – I didn't have to walk them for one. Once we reached the top, the two of them strode to a large door at the end and knocked furtively.

"Come in," answered an old voice. Ron pushed open and door, holding it open for Hermione but letting it slam into my face. It collided with my nose and I made a small yelp.

"Jerk…" I mumbled, rubbing the sore area and making my way in myself.

The room could easily make any principal of a normal school jealous. The room was two floors, with a small set of stairs on both sides of the room. The walls were lined with cupboards, filled to the brim with odd trinkets and weird and wonderful devices that moved on their own. Stuff like that didn't surprise me anymore.

A small desk sat just in the area in front of the next floor. An old man, complete with bizarre clothing and typical wizard's hat sat there, quill in one hand and petting his pet in the other. The pet captivated me – it was a phoenix, with bright fiery feathers that burned like they did in the myths. I was starting to believe that the myths were real.

"Ah," said the old man, whose brittle beard must have won a Guinness World Record or something, "Come on in, Hermione, Ron, Percy."

Hermione and Ron exchanged surprised glances.

"You mean you knew Percy was here, Professor?"

"Of course. I know all of my students," he responded with a smile, and then he turned to me, "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mr Jackson. I'm Professor Albus Dumbledore – I hope you enjoy your stay."

I couldn't help but think about a hotel receptionist, the way he said it. Like I wasn't going to be here for long, or something.

"Uh, thanks," I said, looking doubtful. Professor Dumbledore only continued to smile.

"Yes, now, what have you come here to see me about?" Ron looked positively confused.

"Professor," he started, glancing between me and him, "We found Percy in Harry's bed. Where's Harry?" Dumbledore stroked his phoenix delicately, and it seemed to purr at his actions.

"I don't know, Ronald," he spoke earnestly.

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't," then his eyes settled on me again and I felt self-conscious in Harry's clothes, "Percy, you were sent here with a purpose. When you fulfil it, your memories will be returned to you, and you can return home."

That sent my heart racing. This guy knew about me. He knew about my lost memories. I hoped he wasn't going to continue being vague about it.

"Why am I here? What purpose do I have to fulfil? Why-"

"Ah, Perseus, that, you will have to find out yourself. I shouldn't worry – Mr Weasley and Miss Granger here will help you."

I froze, not knowing what to say. This old guy was telling me I had to do something to get my memories back. Didn't it occur to him that I had no idea what to do in order to do that? Something flashed in my mind – a memory of times before.

"Like a… quest?" I asked.

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, like a quest. You'll make friends and enemies on the way, but, alas, that is part of the learning process."

I stared at the ground, unable to keep looking at him. This old professor needed some of his brain cells checked. I know he was trying to be all wise and stuff – but stuff like that really wasn't helping when I had no idea about myself and where the heck I was.

Hermione stepped in for me, "Professor, what are we going to do about lessons?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Why, go to them of course. Learning cannot happen without teaching."

"But, Professor," she said more firmly, "Percy's not Harry. People will notice."

"A transfer student is always a good cover."

Ron snickered, "You can say you came from Salem." Hermione glared at him, but said nothing. Dumbledore stood up to admire his pet bird, which was cawing softly.

"Ah, Fawkes, you're looking much better than yesterday," he said to no-one in particular, before returning to the three of us again, "I would start your search in the library. There are always dark secrets lurking there. Good luck, you three. You may go." I took that as an invitation to leave, being the first to swing around and leave the office.

I was furious, livid. This man probably knew everything that I had to do, but was deliberately keeping quiet for the sake of us discovering more about ourselves, or something. I clenched my sweaty palms, feeling like a volcano about to erupt. It was like holding off treatment for a hospital patient – just wrong.

Hermione smiled at me sympathetically, "Don't worry, we'll help get your memories back. Won't we, Ron?"

Ron snorted as he exited the door, "Sure. Then we can get Harry back." This Ron character – why did he dislike me so much? What had I ever done to him? It's not my fault I woke up with no memory of where I was and what I was doing here. Hermione scowled at him, whacking him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he squealed, as we made our way back to the magical spinning staircase.

"Don't be so rude, Ronald. Percy has lost his memories and we've lost our friend – we're working towards a common goal."

I managed to control my anger, "If Dumbledore has answers then I want them. I have no idea what my 'purpose' is."

The two of them looked just about as unsure as I was, and they were silent as the staircase descended. Finally, Hermione spoke up.

"I don't either. But if Dumbledore says you have a purpose, we better start finding out what it is. We should go to the library then," Ron groaned as she said that, the three of us exiting the statue and striding down the corridor, "But not now. We'd better be going to lesson before we're any later than we are."

Great, lessons. I wasn't exactly prepared to learn magic – I didn't have time. I needed to get my memories back. I needed to find where I actually belonged, and as cute as the idea of a magic school is, it's wasn't here. But if Dumbledore was going to be vague, fine, we were going to play along. I was going to get my memories back, and I'd stop at nothing to do it.

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If you enjoyed this, please leave a review. I have a rough plot in my head, but I'm debating whether or not to continue. Next chapter will inevitably by from Harry's point of view.

Many thanks :)

~ GD


	2. Greeks are Bad at Remembering Faces

Hey, it's GreenWithAwesome (GD) here - incoming with a new chapter! I still haven't quite made up my mind on whether to continue, but I thought I should post Harry's chapter in order to see the contrast. Harry's chapters will generally be more serious than Percy's - Rowling and Riordan's writing styles sort of reflect that.

Thank you too all of the people who have already reviewed! I appreciate every single one of them! :D

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it~

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Harry had been having some weird dreams. In it, this woman with flowing white Greek-style robes was talking to him in a soothing voice. It was pleasant, but he didn't remember a word she was saying. The oddest part was that it felt real – as if, he was actually there, being petted by an elegant lady, talking to him in a calming voice.

Then he woke up with a start. He could hear the rain lashing relentlessly outside, pouring down the modern windows of the cabin.

Hang on, cabin? Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes and making sure he wasn't still dreaming. As his eyes focused, he found himself in a stone grey shack with large windows that overlooked the sea. The walls, that glowed eerily like Harry was stuck in a sea cavern, were lined with sea shells and coral. The ceiling was decorated with bronze seahorse creatures and there was a thick smell of ocean air.

As Harry looked around, he spotted a large fountain, with intricate patterns. At the fountain head was a fish that sprayed water from its mouth, with some gold coins scattered at the bottom of the pool. They reflected off whatever light there was that poured into the cabin.

Harry didn't remember a thing. Where he was, who he was… well, he remembered that his name was Harry Potter, but nothing more.

Just then, there was a grunt. Harry flicked his head upwards – a bunk-bed over was someone else sleeping peacefully in bed. He was snoring, although it sounded like a rumble.

Harry gulped – It was still dark out, so Harry knew it couldn't have been earlier than two in the morning. He would have definitely remembered if he had fallen asleep here. This wasn't somewhere where you just dozed off and forget you were in a sea palace.

Maybe he was just dreaming. Harry let himself fall back on his pillow again, turning to his side and closing his eyes. Yes, this was all just a very, very weird dream. He tucked his hands underneath his pillow, closing his eyes only to shoot back up again.

He had touched something cold and sleek. His hand slipped back underneath, pulling out what looked like a gold pen. Harry raised an eyebrow – why the heck was there a pen underneath his pillow? He placed the pen on the floor beside the bed.

No, he realised. He definitely wasn't dreaming. Out of habit, Harry reached out to grab his glasses, but his arm ended up uselessly flailing over the side. His glasses weren't there.

He bit his lip – he could hardly see without those things. He squinted, but unfortunately his glasses were nowhere to be seen.

Unfazed, Harry decided to explore a bit, and got out of bed. A small wardrobe to the side was filled with rows upon rows of orange t-shirts. Harry threw one on, hoping whoever owned them wouldn't mind. He walked to the window, where the sandy beach was in view. Quietly, he opened the door snuck outside.

It wasn't like he was expecting. Behind his cabin was another row of huts, all in a U-shape formation and all decorated differently. His sat perched on the right of a very prestigious and grand-looking cabin, with a dark and ominous one left of that. The rest of them seemed to cower in comparison – the sheer grandeur of these three main cabins made them head of the U-shape. Harry walked around, in bare feet, soaking in the sights.

He appeared to be on an island, and just from that, Harry could tell, he wasn't from around here. This wasn't his natural environment.

That didn't stop him, though. This new place was pretty exciting-looking. He was about to check further past the cabins when he was suddenly slapped on the back from behind, and he almost jumped out from his skin.

"Out of bed, Jackson? Should have known," said a voice. Harry turned around – the man was blurry, but Harry could see that he was shorter than him by a mile and wearing a baseball cap.

"Don't worry," the man said, in a very American accent, "I won't tell the nymphs. Unless you're going to see your girlfriend – in which case, you better get your sorry butt back to bed before I make you."

Harry swallowed – firstly, he was sure his name wasn't Jackson. Secondly, this guy… he squinted again, only to widen his eyes when he spotted a pair of very furry goat hindquarters where human legs should have been.

"Uh, sorry," said Harry in alarm, glancing back at the cabin, "I'll go back now."

The goat-man laughed, "Got the flu, kid? Your voice is funny. Anyway, yeah, get back to the cabin." Harry did what he was told, moving slowly back to the sea palace. He turned his head around just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Nope, the man was half of a goat.

Harry racked his brain. He was pretty sure they had a name for those, in Greek mythology. Satyrs, he thought. That guy is a satyr.

He didn't dwell on it further, only just realising how tired he was, and slipped back into his cabin, promptly falling asleep on his bed.

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Harry woke with a start, feeling like he'd only slept five minutes. Less. He opened his eyes groggily and looked around. Yep, he was still in the sea cabin, although it looked a lot less creepy in the daylight, which flooded through the wide windows. He was about to sit up when he heard voices.

"Impress Ella today," said a deep, husky guy. Harry could hear him spraying something around, and suddenly the air filled with a musky man scent – cologne? Then he turned around, and Harry almost screamed like a girl.

His roommate only had one brown eye, stuck right in the centre of his head. It was roughly covered by his tousled brown hair, but still very noticeable. This guy was large, stocky, with broad shoulders, and when he saw Harry peeking at him, he grinned heartily.

"Percy!" said the Cyclops (well, one-eyed things were Cyclopes, right?), "You are awake! Help me choose what to wear for Ella!" Without saying anything, the one-eyed creature grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him out of bed, straight to the Cyclops's wardrobe where he had the same assortment of clothing as Harry had seen in the other wardrobe – rows upon rows of orange T-shirts. In the daylight, he could make out the writing on the front, but couldn't read it. He missed his glasses.

"Uh…" said Harry, staring at the T-shirts, "They're all the same."

The Cyclops sniffed the air, like he was detecting an unfamiliar scent. Finally, the Cyclops looked at him with his one eye. Harry shivered, feeling like this creature was piercing into his very soul. The eye widened, and suddenly the Cyclops launched backwards, scrambling away from Harry like he carried the Black Plague.

"You are not Percy!" he screamed, backing up against the wall, "You do not sound or smell like Percy!"

"I'm not Percy," said Harry, trying to calm the beast down – he hoped someone wouldn't hear them, "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. And I have no idea where I am."

Suddenly, the Cyclops looked very angry, "Where is _Percy_?!"

"I don't know! I don't even know who Percy is!" said Harry desperately, hoping this guy wasn't going on the attack soon. But he neared him, repeating the same 'Where is Percy' sentence over and over again.

Well, it was a short but nice life, thought Harry, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for impact.

Instead, the Cyclops grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him outside. The rain had stopped during nightfall and it was a lovely day – birds chirping, a gentle breeze, the sun shining brightly. Too bad Harry couldn't enjoy it, since his arm was going to be wrenched off at any second.

The Cyclops kept muttering to himself – something about Percy and Ella again. Harry wasn't really at any state to care.

"Tyson!" someone yelled, and Harry could hear footsteps rushing over, "What are you doing? Put Percy down!"

Tyson the Cyclops recoiled, obeying the girl's command and loosening his grip on Harry's arm. Harry stretched a bit when he did – he really needed to work out or something.

"This is not Per-" began Tyson, but he was too late. Harry turned around, and by Merlin's beard the most awkward thing happened ever. The blonde girl who had demanded Tyson put him down threw her arms around his neck and kissed him smack on the lips.

Harry didn't know what to do. There was a girl he had never met, kissing him. He stood, rooted to the spot, looking anywhere but the girl and feeling very flustered. He probably should have been more like 'get in there!', but, somehow, he just felt out-of-place.

When the girl realised he wasn't kissing back, or even hugging back, she let go and opened her grey eyes, "What's wrong, Per-"

Then realisation struck like a bolt of lightning. She grimaced (which Harry felt a little offended by. C'mon, he didn't taste _that_ bad, did he?) and blushed furiously, whipping her head around.

"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry. I thought you were my boyfriend," her curly hair was held back by a ponytail and she was very tanned, like a typical beach babe you see in those American movies. She trying to recover from the fact that she had just been unfaithful (sort of), "You look so much like him."

"So I've heard," replied a dazed Harry. He'd been dragged out of bed and kissed just because he looked like some bloke called Percy. This wasn't funny anymore.

The blonde looked startled, "Your accent..!"

"This not Percy!" wailed Tyson, who looked a little oblivious to the kissing trouble, "I found him in Percy's bed! Percy is not there!"

"_What_?!" suddenly, the blonde changed tone. Her grey eyes became very dark, like storm clouds descending in the sky, and her expression changed to anger. In one fell-swoop, she grabbed Harry but the arm and flipped him over her shoulder, making him land on the ground with an unnerving crack.

"Ouch!" he cried in pain. The blonde girl put her foot on top of his chest to stop him escaping and breathed down ominously.

"Where is Percy?!" she demanded, and Harry felt _Déjà vu__._

"I don't know _who_ Percy is, let alone _where_ he is," Harry said urgently, holding up his hands in defeat. This only made the blonde push down harder on his chest.

"Not an excuse. How can you just be in his bed wearing his clothes?!"

Harry looked sideways, "Listen, I woke up in that bed, and I don't remember anything, so I put on the first T-shirt I could find. It's not like he'll miss one T-shirt, he's got loads of the same one…"

The blonde got so close to his face he could see her perfectly. Her face was pretty, but not the kinda' girl you wanted to mess with. Her lips were plump, her appearance livid, and hanging around her neck was a leather strip with a selection of beads.

She scrutinised Harry's face, detecting any lies. Harry seemed to shrink under her gaze, which finally softened as she took her foot off of his chest.

"You're not lying," she said, scratching her chin, "So if you're telling the truth… where _is_ Percy, then?" she said this more to herself than anyone else. Harry stood up, taking deep breaths and dusting himself off. He hoped he didn't have another encounter like that again, as he warily rubbed his back.

There were loads of people who didn't seem to take any notice of their little meet, all wearing the same bright orange T-shirt. He figured it happened often or they'd be rushing to help.

When he turned back around, the blonde held out her hand as an apology, "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I just tend to get over-protective of my boyfriend. I'm Annabeth Chase, you?"

Harry hesitated, but shook her hand. She had a firm grip, and she squeezed his hand a little too tight for comfort. He forced a smile and replied.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"You're British," she said almost immediately.

"And you're American. What a multicultural world we live in," Harry retorted. Why anyone cared that he was British, he didn't know. An awkward silence passed, with the exception of Tyson the Cyclops muttering to himself again.

"Are you a son of Poseidon? That would explain why you were in that cabin," she asked, pointing over at the sea palace and acting like it was a totally normal thing to be the son of a god.

"Er, nooo," Harry said slowly, having an instinct that he was missing something obvious, "I just woke up there. I don't know who I am or where I am."

"Well, I can answer that," said Annabeth, who looked a little dubious, "This is Camp Half-Blood, a home for demigods."

"Demigods?!" Harry repeated incredulously, as Annabeth cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, where the sons and daughters of Greek gods are trained to fight monsters in the outside world," she stated, matter-of-factly, "Tyson is a son of Poseidon – the god of seas, horses and earthquakes; that's why he sleeps in Poseidon's cabin. I'm a daughter of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war."

Harry laughed sheepishly, "But Greek gods are just myths, right?" Annabeth pursed her lips, looking very unimpressed with Harry.

"Yes, and I suppose Tyson is just a hallucination that's able to grab you by the arm, all right," she snorted, then adding with a mutter, "Must be a mortal…" Harry gulped. So, as far as Annabeth was saying, he was stuck on an island full of Greek mythology nuts. Great.

He had no memory, though, so maybe it was best to believe her for the time being. If Annabeth was a daughter of the wisdom goddess, maybe she could help with this predicament. He was about to ask her another question before Harry spotted a centaur galloping towards them. The top-half was clearly the body of a man, with a wiry brown beard and old features, while the bottom half was that of a white stallion.

He approached them slowly, nodding towards Annabeth, "Good morning, Annabeth, Percy." Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation – he might as well have been Percy's twin if he was constantly mistaken for him.

"No, Chiron," said Annabeth, gesturing to Harry, "This is Harry Potter."

"Hi," he greeted, rather flatly.

Annabeth continued, looking slightly distressed, "Percy is missing. _Again_."

The centaur, presumably Chiron, blinked hard, "What? Percy is missing?" he said incredulously, before fingering with his beard, "Contact Jupiter. Maybe he travelled there and decided not to enlighten us with this decision."

Annabeth frowned, "But Percy would have told _me_ that he was going to Jupiter, right?" What? This Percy guy could go to space? Harry's face must have portrayed a huge amount of confusion because Annabeth managed to giggle in reaction.

"Er, _Camp_ Jupiter, Harry. It's for the children of Roman gods," Harry let out a small sound of understanding. That made much more sense than space travel.

"Do so, just in case," he instructed, glancing back at Harry with an intrigued expression, "So, you're Harry Potter, hmm? It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, likewise," replied Harry. Chiron scratched one of his feet – hooves, whatever – on the dry ground.

"How did you get into Camp?"

"I woke up in that cabin over there," Harry quickly pointed at the sea cabin, "I'm pretty sure my dad isn't Poseidon, but I don't remember anything."

"Mmm," said Chiron, clearly deep in thought, "No memory, eh? Come with me – you too, Annabeth. I think we need to contact someone." Tyson giggled suddenly, and Harry had a feeling he was going to see Ella.

"See you around, Tyson," said Annabeth, waving with a small smile at the Cyclops who presently darted away happily like a child at Christmas time. Chiron the centaur turned around, trotting towards a slope with Annabeth quick to follow.

Harry was a few steps behind, glancing at Chiron. The funny thing is when Harry looked at him, he was reminded of the past. A centaur of such presence reminded him of vague faces. He was certain he had met centaurs before in his life, but not a name nor specific features came flooding back to him like he hoped.

Without his glasses, everything just looked blurry, like looking through an unfocused camera. When Harry squinted, he could just make out the fields in the distance and the other campers decked in Greek armour. It was bizarre, like a whole world existed parallel with the one he was already familiar with. Well, the one he thought he was familiar with. Whenever Harry tried to remember anything, his mind went blank like a slate wiped clean. It frustrated him.

They reached the top of a hill, stopping just outside of a suburban house with a wooden deck, which was clearly worn down: blue paint was scratched off and windows were cracked. It looked out of place in comparison to the rest of camp, which was mostly Greek style and traditional.

"Welcome to the Big House," said Chiron, "Come on in. We shall have a meeting with the head counsellors. I will call them, if you two can just make your way to the Rec Room."

Annabeth guided Harry upstairs into a room with a long table and multiple chairs, and even a table-tennis set. Harry sat himself next to Annabeth, who was one away from the head of the table. She looked very troubled and lost, and it was hard to believe that she was the same girl that flipped him over and demanded information less than ten minutes ago.

"We'll find him, don't worry," Harry reassured, as Annabeth cupped her face in her petite hands and shook her head.

"He's done this before, disappeared without anyone knowing how or why. But now this time you're here to replace him. I just…" she took a deep breath, putting her hands face-down on the table and closing her eyes. She turned to Harry and smiled sympathetically.

"We'll find Percy," she spoke firmly, "And your memories. I don't know what's happened, but whatever it is, we're going to get to the bottom of it." Harry felt thankful. He had woken up in a strange place with strange people, but it was good to know one of them was on his side. Even if she had her own reasons for being so.

Chiron entered the room, followed by a mass of campers, laughing and joking around. When they saw Annabeth in distress and Harry, they stopped, laughter dying in their throats. The counsellors took seats in various places, all looking very grave, and especially glancing at the black-haired boy with green eyes.

Once Chiron had taken the head seat, he cleared his throat, "Percy Jackson is missing-"

"Again?!" one of them bellowed in disbelief, causing a grunt of disapproval within the room.

In an act to restore order, Chiron stomped his hoof, "Yes, he is missing again. Harry Potter here woke up in his place, with no memories of who he is and where he's from."

Harry felt a rush of embarrassment as all of the eyes turned towards him. He looked down at the table, feeling a little guilt that he had effectively 'replaced' this Percy character.

"I bet it was Hera again – she's always up to no good," said one camper, with overalls over his greasy T-shirt and curly black hair. His face was serious, which contrasted with his elfish appearance.

"That's what I was wondering," said Annabeth, "Maybe it's another exchange programme."

"But to where?" said another, stocky guy who would probably punch you in the face if you stared at him funny, "Jupiter again?"

"There'd be no point in Camp Jupiter again. Besides, Reyna or Jason would have been in contact, right?" said Elfy the camper, waving his hand dismissively, "Maybe he's just out surfing and all this fuss is for nothing?"

"It doesn't excuse Harry's appearance, though," Annabeth's attention turned to Harry again, "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"Positive, I don't remember anything at all," Harry contributed, as a few campers murmured to themselves, "If I did, I'd tell you." Elfy grinned, leaning casually on the table.

"Well, we've already got a clue, don't we, Queen Elizabeth?" He snickered, causing Annabeth to glare at him and Harry to feel self-conscious.

"Don't mock his accent, Leo. But it _is_ true – you must be from the United Kingdom. Maybe around the London area?"

Harry felt suddenly alarmed. London… yes, London was important. Something about the capitol city made Harry want to return. He had been there before, many times, he was sure, like it was a part of his childhood, or something.

As the muttering became louder, Chiron ordered for silence, "It seems we have only one thing to do. We need to contact Hera."

"We need to ask Mr. D first," said a girl – even without his specs, Harry could see she was rough-looking, smug and dirty from combat, "Then I can show around the new kid, if you want. Show him the ropes." One sentence and Harry wanted to bolt as far away as possible. She had this man-ish face that just made him want to gag.

Annabeth glowered at her, too, "That's not _necessary_, Clarisse," although Harry had a certain suspicion she wasn't talking about 'showing him the ropes', "I agree, though. Where is Mr. D, anyway?"

"Oh, you're all looking so miserable today," the voice from behind made Harry jump. In a poof of violet smoke, a fat man with a Hawaiian-style shirt and bottle of wine in his hand appeared right behind him, resting his free arm on Harry's shoulder.

"You're Johnson's replacement, eh? You look a little scrawny – at least Peter had muscle," Harry narrowed his eyes, glaring at the man with disdain. He knew deep inside he believed his proficiency lay elsewhere, and that it made up for his lack of physical strength.

Mr. D grinned maliciously, "Ah, lighten up. We're not all doom and gloom here, Harvey."

Harry gritted his teeth, "It's _Harry_."

"Yeah, whatever. So, you want to contact Hera, do you? S'pose you could send her up an offering at dinner – maybe there's a demigod camp back in England that we don't know about." He laughed, taking a swig of his drink, while everyone else just stared at him.

"But, Mr. D, surely you would _know_ about another camp in England?" said a girl with choppy-hair and a bereft expression. Mr. D waved it off.

"Bah, ask Hera anyway," and in another poof of smoke, Mr. D had disappeared as quickly as he had come.

"Then it's settled," said Chiron, nodding his head firmly, "We shall ask Hera. At evening meal, everyone offer your scraps to her. Perhaps she will grace us with her presence-"

"Not likely…" grunted Annabeth.

"We have to try, for Percy and Harry's sake. Council dismissed," there was a general shuffling of chairs as people got up to leave; the only ones staying behind being Harry, Annabeth, Leo, the choppy-haired girl and Chiron himself. Annabeth tucked her head in her hands again as Leo and the other girl came to comfort her.

"What am I going to do with him?" she mumbled, as if talking about a child.

"Ah, I wouldn't worry. You know Percy – that guy is invincible."

"For once, Leo's right," Leo shot the girl a resentful look, "Percy can take care of himself – he did before. You just need to calm down, Annabeth." For some reason, a rush of calm wafted throughout the room and Harry could feel it. His muscles relaxed, which were a bit tense before, and his shoulders sagged. Even Chiron exhaled deeply.

"Right," he said, after a long pause, "Let's focus on Harry for now."

"It's nice to meet you, Harry," said Leo, the boy with curly hair, "Name's Valdez – _Leo_ Valdez."

"Stop doing James Bond impressions, Leo!" snapped the girl, who whacked him on the arm. He yelped, rubbing the sore spot. She sighed, aggravated at his clown acts.

"I'm Piper McLean, nice to meet you. I'm a daughter of Aphrodite-"

"You mean the Greek goddess of beauty?" Harry stared at Piper, or what he could see without his glasses. She was wearing un-matching clothes and her hair was unkempt, but she still radiated magnificence. Even the way she spoke had that soothing quality that he couldn't put a pin on.

"That's the one," she said, biting her lip and looking away. It was obvious to Harry that she didn't like talking about her parentage. Luckily, Leo saved the day.

"And I'm a son of Hephaestus – god of forges, fire, and being cool."

"Got it," said a very unconvinced Harry.

"We need to get you a bed, and not one that's already owned," said Chiron, who was pacing around the room and thinking hard, "If you're here, it may well mean that you're a demigod yourself."

Just as he said that, the faces of everyone in the room changed, from concentration to shock. Annabeth's eyes seemed to brighten. Piper's hand went to her mouth. Leo's dropped like a brick. Harry blinked as they stared just above his head with awe.

"What?" there was a faint glow reflecting off of the walls. Harry looked up, startled by what he saw: a hologram of twin torches crossed over each other. When the glow died, everyone in the room bowed.

"All hail, Harry Potter, son of Hecate."

But all Harry could think was how impossible it was.

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

"Le gasp! GD, Harry's mother is Lily, not Hecate!11!" I am aware of that, of course. It's all part of the story. :D

Yes, please leave a review. I'd appreciate some feedback. Then I shall make up my mind for certain. :)

All the best,

~ GD


	3. I Fail at Becoming Smarter

Hey guys, GD here! Incoming with a new chapter, woo!

At the end I will explain these events in accordance with the books. Because it is slightly confusing lol. Thanks to all of your sparkling reviews; I am really greatful :)

To the reviewer who said I loved accents, yes it's true lol. Being British, I think the American accent is cute. I think the difference would be pretty noticable too, so I always emphasise it. It's pretty difficult sometimes, writing as Percy, because I have to switch to American terminology. XD

Anyway, enjoy~

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"Late as usual, Mr Potter."

Maybe it was just me, but why was it that every teacher in the whole wide world picked on me? Even when I'm pulled into some new place, not remembering a single thing about myself, I feel like a little ant about to be crushed by the boot of a superior adult. It really sucks.

I opened my mouth. I'm not Potter. I'm new. I don't really care if I'm late because I don't want to be here anyway. Hermione stopped me, grabbing my arm and shaking her head. I sighed – why wasn't she singled out for being late? What about Ron, a guy who might actually deserve it?

I filed in behind my two new acquaintances, slipping onto a high-chair and dumping Harry's bag on the desk. Hermione was next to me, who was next to Ron. I had a feeling this would be the usual arrangement from now on.

"Sorry, Professor," mumbled Hermione, sounding a little weak as the teacher approached us, "We were with Professor Dumbledore."

He strode over to us, chin in the air. His greasy black hair stuck to his face in contrast with his black cloak that breezed behind him. The Potions classroom was a perfect match – creepy, weird and dark. The tables were dotted with cauldrons and the numerous bottles on the shelves were chock full with eyes, spleens, and insect legs. It was like mad scientist laboratory.

The teacher sneered, "Proof?"

Hermione's face paled, and she glanced at Ron and I before whimpering, "We don't have any notes, sir."

Greasy's lower lip rose on his face, "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being late. I don't tolerate tardiness in my lesson."

"Why don't you ask Dumbledore, then? He'll back us up," I spoke, thinking nothing really of it. But all eyes in the dungeon turned to stare, like I'd publically announced that I picked my nose. The teacher bore down on me, livid.

"Don't talk back to your superiors, boy. Another ten points from Gryffindor," there was a resounding grumble from the other kids dressed in the same uniform as me, but the Professor wasn't done yet, "You're not Harry Potter. Who are you, his rabble-rousing cousin from abroad?"

I wanted to stand up, but I refrained myself, "No; I'm Percy Jackson. Nice to meet you, _Prof_."

"That's Professor _Snape_ to you. Speaking of Potter, where is he?" Hermione and Ron looked a lot less confident when I met them, so I spoke instead.

"I don't know. No-one knows. He's disappeared and I have to go look for him."

Professor Snape didn't look impressed, "Is that so? I dare say that boy was a troublemaker anyway. Turn to page three-hundred-and-ninety-four." I sat up, startled. Snape clearly did not like Harry as much as Hermione and Ron did. I wordlessly followed his orders, as the rest of the Gryffindor house (plus the other lot that were stuck with us – the Hufflepuffs) turned enigmatically to three-hundred-and-ninety-four.

After about half an hour of drivel that I didn't understand I almost fell asleep. I tried my very hardest to read the book set, but all of the words just floated around the page, as if trying to tease me. I had to stare for the longest time before even the first sentence made sense. And that was only the words.

I mean, c'mon, was I really meant to understand the meaning of 'mix ground scarab beetles until a lovely red colour, stirring counter-clockwise three times, before adding armadillo bile until yellow'?

Even worse, while Snape was rambling on, I kept fidgeting: my quill (seriously? Quills? Talk about old school), the corner of the page, the ink pot – anything, but listening to him. Even when I tried, I just couldn't sit still.

And when practical came around, Hermione had to tell me everything to do.

"Now stir it – slowly! Counter-clockwise, like the book say," she guided gently, pointing to the part in the book where it was apparently written. I softly stirred the mixture, although it looked pretty rotten.

"Hermione, seriously, I can't read it. It's all jumbled up," I replied, picking up on the end of the knife some gross, icky armadillo sick and dropping it in. She sighed sympathetically, about to say something before Ron jumped in with his unhelpful quips.

"Right, and I'm actually Snape's long lost brother. Stop making things up and let Hermione do her own work," I gritted my teeth, feeling an urge to punch him into his long lost brother, who was eying us with malice.

"Ronald," she hissed, glaring at him for the upteemth time, "Stop being so _rude_." Ron just smiled.

"I was only teasing," neither Hermione nor I bought that. I was going to comment on how useful it would be if he were Snape's long lost brother, then he could help me with making potions, when the very man glided up to us.

"Something wrong, Mr Jackson?" he said, drawling out my surname like it was a tabooed word. My hand gripped my knife and I sliced the ginger root, pretending it was his face.

"Nothing at all, Professor," I said coolly, keeping my eyes fixated on my cauldron. Snape merely smirked.

"Good, then you'll kindly test the potion, then?" he clapped his hands and everyone stopped working, "Mr Jackson here has volunteered to try his potion in front of everyone."

I almost dropped my knife, "But, sir, I haven't finished-"

"Then you'd better, Mr Jackson. Or it'll be another ten points for hesitation."

I thought you could only get marked down for hesitation in driving lessons, but apparently, Snape was serious. I sucked it up, dropping the ginger in and giving it a good stir until it was a bright orange.

Orange. I was fond of the colour orange. Not sure why, though.

I took Harry's wand, following the instruction to 'wave it around a little', before scooping up some of the mixture in a goblet and downing it in one go. Didn't really want to lose anymore hesitation points, did I?

Hermione bit her lip. Ron stared at me with anticipation. Nothing happened.

"Do your thoughts feel any clearer?" If they did, I'd probably remember all about my past by now. No such thing happened. Making a wit-sharpening potion required wit itself to make. I made a face that was an obvious 'no'.

Snape sighed, frustrated, "Congratulations. You have managed to create a dud potion. If you were actually _paying attention_ earlier then perhaps it would have turned out well for you. Five points." Ron looked like he was stifling a laugh while Hermione was far more considerate.

"Don't worry," she whispered, when Snape had left in a trail of lubricant, "I'll keep helping you until you get it." Ron turned sour as the armadillo bile as I beamed.

"Thanks, Herms."

She cocked an eyebrow disapprovingly at her new nickname, but, eh, she was going to have to get used to it.

=#=#=#=

The rest of the morning hadn't been any better. I failed to summon a pillow in Charms. Professor Binns, the ghost, told me off for forgetting the date of the Great Goblin rebellion (not that I knew it anyway). Astronomy I was decent at because I knew the order of the planets, but that still didn't seem to help in the pop quiz we were given. How was I supposed to know the location of the next lunar eclipse?

I slumped behind Ron and Hermione, who were chatting in hushed whispers again, as we made our way to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione promised that we'd go to the library after getting some food into our stomachs, not that I was keen to go.

The Hall was bustling full of students, all pleased that the morning was over. I had met a few of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws during out lessons, and most of them were really friendly, although a little dubious over Harry's disappearance and my appearance. Rumours were already flying around and I hadn't even eaten yet.

Ron and Hermione squeezed in between a fellow Gryffindor (and my roommate) Seamus Finnegan and his friend, Dean Thomas. I had to sit opposite next to Hermione's roommate Lavender Brown, who constantly had her eyes on me. It was a little off-putting.

"So," she started, taking a chicken leg, "Is it true you're from America?"

I sighed. This was beginning to get old already, "Yeah. America. New York."

"That's really cool," said Lavender, batting her eyelids. Hermione made a silent gagging gesture as Ron snickered. I laughed nervously.

"Hah, yeah, cool," I grabbed the nearest plate – a bowl heaped with spaghetti bolognaise, and piled it onto my own. Maybe if I ignored her, she would go away, but I was just _too_ attractive.

Hahah, I'm joking. But seriously, she would _not_ take her eyes off of me. Even while I was shovelling pasta into my mouth, being a good representation of a pig, Lavender's brown orbs seared into my skin.

"What school did you go to before transferring here?" she asked, delicately cutting up the chicken with a knife and fork. I looked left and right urgently before speaking:

"Salem." I was the suggestion that Ron gave me, and boy did I regret it.

The said ginger almost had a choking fit, grabbing his napkin and trying to stop himself from bursting into laughter. Hermione was slapping him on the back, helping him, but biting her lip like I'd said something wrong. The group were in sudden fits of hysterics.

"What?"

"Ye're not talking about the Salem Witch's Institute, are ye'? Because that's an all-_girl's_ school," snickered Seamus, while my attention turned to Ron, enraged.

"No," I managed to say through the fakest smile, "Salem _Wizard's_ Institute. Never heard of them?"

Dean frowned, "I haven't."

Hermione to the rescue, "Yes, um… it's a private wizardry school. Only accepts the best. Very closed up and secretive." My anger washed away. Hermione was a genius. I practically shone while she returned a small smile.

Dean and Seamus exchanged smug glances.

"Ye' weren't exactly the 'best' in Potions. Or Charms. _Or_ History of Magic."

Gods, that was the perfect excuse too. He just _had_ to ruin it. I decided to play along.

"Yes, well, I've been stressed as of late. This whole transferring thing and different time zone have sent my brain into a frenzy." I smiled, hoping that would win them over. It seemed to do the trick.

Dean shrugged, "Well, as long as you don't make us lose any more house points than we already have. Slytherin are in the lead now." And the conversation was left at that, with Dean and Seamus conversing amongst themselves and Lavender chatting to Parvati Patil beside her (but still occasionally looking in my direction and giggling).

The Great Hall emptied a little after a while; I was finished ages ago, but Hermione and Ron were such slow eaters. They would exchange glances from time to time, like waiting for me to explode or something. I was tracing my finger on the edge of my goblet in boredom by the time they were almost done.

"You two eat so slowly," I remarked, watching as Ron took a millennium to put a forkful of beans into his mouth. Speaking of Ron, I had a bone to pick, "Yeah. What was that about earlier? Why did you tell me to say I was from Salem?"

Ron looked up, almost batting his eyelids as innocently as Lavender had, "I was joking. Couldn't you tell by my tone?"

"No," I snapped, almost immediately, "You sounded pretty serious to me earlier."

"Boys," Hermione spoke firmly, causing both of us to whip our heads in her direction. Her expression was blank and her hands were by her side, "You're forgetting that we need to get your memories back and find Harry, so I suggest you both start co-opera-" She halted mid-sentence only to widen her eyes at something behind me.

Naturally, I turned around. It was only a couple of Ravenclaw students stuffing themselves silly with ice cream.

"What is it? What are we staring at?" I was about to turn back, but Ron stopped me.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, that's so weird!"

"_What's_ so weird?" My eyes scanned the scene. The Ravenclaws were eating vanilla flavour topped with butterscotch. One of the Ravenclaws had a small rip in her jumper. Another had painted their fingernails pink.

"I really don't see it," I turned back around. Hermione and Ron were looking at me pleasantly.

"It's nothing," Hermione said.

I pointed, dumb-founded, at Ron, "But you-"

He shrugged, "We thought we saw something else." He spoke a little too quickly for comfort, but if Hermione said she saw nothing, then I believed her. I didn't particularly trust Ron, though.

I sighed, "Whatever. What did you think you saw? And would you hurry up? We need to go to the library." As I said this, I took the goblet full of orange juice and downed the rest of it. It tasted sweeter than before.

"How do you feel?" asked Ron.

"Why do _you_ care?" I retorted, "And can you _please_ rush?"

But now that he said that, something weird stirred inside of me. It was like someone had unleashed a burst of canned sunshine in my stomach. I suddenly felt utterly compelled to spill every secret I knew to the two Gryffindors seated opposite me. It was a very strange feeling and I couldn't shake it off.

Ron and Hermione kept staring at me, with expectation. My eyes wandered to my drink, and then I realised.

"You spiked my drink, didn't you?" I spoke, a little slurred.

The brunette's plain expression changed to guilt, and that said it all, "I'm sorry, Percy. It's nothing personal, really!"

"What have you done to me?"

"It's Verita Serum. The _truth_ serum," Hermione ashamedly held up the little bottle that was in her cloak pocket I saw earlier, "We just want to be sure you're telling us everything you know."

=#=#=#=

They quickly took me to an empty Charms classroom and sat me on a chair. I was very irritated.

"Why would you need to drug me? I can hardly lie if I don't have anything _to_ lie about!" Ron didn't look so convinced. He was on his feet, pacing around with his tie loose with his hands clenched tightly.

"You wake up in Harry's bed, and he's disappeared, and you're telling me you don't know _anything_? I don't buy it," my dislike of Ron just deepened as I shot him daggers. Hermione was a little more considerate.

"If you have been telling us everything you know, which I'm sure you have, then you have nothing to hide," she gulped as she sat in front of me, "What's your name?"

I sighed, "Percy Jackson."

"Where do you come from?"

"New York," I said instantly, "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm from around there."

"Why are you here?"

"I _don't_ know!" I yelled at her. She looked a bit shaken, but not undeterred.

"Don't shout at her," Ron snapped. My attention turned to him.

"And _you_," I spoke, malice edging into my voice, "You've given me nothing _but_ grief since I got here!"

"Calm down!" Hermione said, standing up and looking frantic. Ron and I both took deep breaths but still glared at each other. Honestly, I didn't know how I was going to work with him. Dumbledore said that I could turn to him and Hermione for help, but, so far, only Hermione had extended her hand.

"All of this shouting isn't helping. Ron, be quiet, _please_?" With hopeful eyes, Ron released the tension in his shoulders and sat down next to her, crossing his arms and keeping his gaze firmly set on the other desks surrounding us.

"Percy," said Hermione, "I _know_ it's difficult. But, please, try to remember anything. Have you come across anything that reminds you of the past?" The only thought that passed my mind was how she _didn't_ know how difficult it was. She'd never lost her memory, otherwise she would have said by now. Nonetheless, I didn't hate her for trying to help me. At least someone was on my side.

"Yeah," I said, after some thinking time. I didn't really want to speak it aloud, but I guessed that was the power of the Verita Serum, "New York, quests, the colour orange… and your 'concentrated' face reminds me of someone."

Hermione's eyebrows heightened on her face, "_I_ remind you of someone?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Someone… someone also pretty smart," I racked my brain. Yeah, there was definitely a girl who made that focused face. I couldn't put be specific on any features, though, except I was certain she didn't look anything like Hermione.

She seemed to blush at my smart comment. Ron had turned to look at me again, and he didn't look like happy bunny.

"Well, keep that thought in mind. If I remind you of someone, don't push it back. If you do, it won't encourage any of your memories to return."

"Have you ever met Harry?" asked Ron immediately, keeping his apparent anger in check. I just rolled my eyes.

"No. I've never heard of Harry. I've never heard of Hogwarts. I didn't even know witches and wizards existed. Can I go now?"

Hermione turned to Ron, "It's strange. He's our age, and he's here, yet he hasn't been able to perform _any_ magic. Not a _single_ charm or spell," Gee, thanks, Hermione, "Squib?"

"Maybe," Ron replied.

"What? A _squid_?" Now, I may have forgotten who I was, but I definitely wasn't flailing around with fifty tentacles squirting ink at everyone, however hilarious that'd be.

"No, a Squib. It's – ah, never mind," Hermione's smile returned, and I guessed she was going to tell me later. She'd better, "I think that's it. We should be going to the library now."

I stood up. I had been interrogated by the people I was supposed to turn to, because they didn't trust my claims. Did anyone ever stop to think that this Dumbledore guy got it wrong? Maybe I couldn't trust them at all? This tense thought made me stiffen a bit, and it was evident on my face. Hermione smiled even brighter.

"I know it's difficult," she repeated, "But you can depend on us, okay? We're going to help find your memories. Aren't we, Ronald?" The ginger boy flicked his hair and grunted, very reluctant to agree. So he should. I didn't think I'd need his help if all he was going to do was hinder and embarrass me.

"Yeah, yeah. Trust. Let's just go."

=#=#=#=

On the way there, we met Draco Malfoy.

Allow me to explain: Hermione felt that because I had been truthful to them, she could be truthful to me. She told me she was born from two Muggles (which I learned were non-magical folk), and that she was called a Muggle-Born (so, basically she had no idea this world existed, until she received her Hogwarts letter). In the Wizarding world, Muggles and Muggle-borns are often prejudiced to being the 'inferior' set of magical people. I thought that was harsh, considering Hermione's the brightest witch I've ever met (of the very few I've met – although Lavender isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed). She even told me a Squib was a non-magical person born from magical parents. Good to know they weren't comparing me to a fish.

Ron told me (grudgingly) that he was from a family of Pure-bloods (where there was no Muggle blood at all). He had five brothers and a sister, all attending or having attended Hogwarts. I thought that'd be cool, at least knowing someone and being able to look to them for advice.

"Yeah," Ron had snorted when I voiced this, "'Coz I really needed five brothers to turn to advice too."

We rounded a corner, Hermione continuing to explain why this world was hidden from the Muggles due to the complications it would bring. As we did, I smacked headfirst into a large and stocky fellow wearing Slytherin green and white. Hermione had also told me about the constant house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, so I didn't think this encounter would end well. I was right.

The stocky guy zeroed in on me, "Watch where you're going, punk."

I cocked an eyebrow, "As long as you take corners slowly next time, pal." I replied smoothly. The stocky guy snarled at me.

"Think you're tough?" I thought he was going to throw a punch, try and grab me, grunt and attempt to look intimidating, but instead his hand wavered around his pocket – his wand pocket. I wasn't quite sure what to do – brandish Harry's and yell _Accio_?

Just then, his small but observably infinitely-brainer companion marched next to him. His hair was a platinum blonde, combed back in a smart style, with a nose the tipped upwards. One look at this fellow and I knew he was trouble. His sneer wasn't helping me to change my mind.

"Well, well, if it isn't _Weasel_, _Mud-Blood_ and-" he scrutinised my face with disgust, "Who the heck are you?"

Although it was nice not to be mistaken for Harry, I retorted, "None of your business, midget." I didn't appreciate the insults he had just thrown at my friends – well, Hermione definitely. But even to Ron, it was uncalled for.

His mouth contorted into a frown, while his bodyguard growled in malevolence.

"Who are _you_ calling midget? If you're hanging out with these _losers_ you must be some sort of social _reject_."

"At least I _earned_ my friends instead of bullying them into it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than to waste my breath."

Oh, he was outraged. Furious. Irate. His pale skin turned blood red with anger and his hands clenched so much I thought he would accidentally cut himself on his nails.

"You made enemies with the wrong person," he seethed, his grey eyes boring up me, "My father _will_ hear about this." Him and the big guy – well, a second joined him shortly after, but he was so insignificant I didn't even care – stormed away, scaring a bunch of first-years in their wake.

After he was gone, I laughed in amusement, "'My _father_ will hear about this'? Talk about a daddy's boy…" Hermione and Ron were practically in hysterics – Ron clutching his stomach because he couldn't stop himself.

"'Midget'? That's bloody genius!" he remarked, glancing at me as I chuckled alongside. It took them a while to quieten down, and I realised then that their hatred for each other must have run very deep. Although I could see why – he was a plain and outright jerk.

Hermione had recovered, clearing her throat, "That was Draco Malfoy. You don't really want to be on his bad side."

Ron snickered again, "Otherwise he'll tell _daddy_." I wiggled my fingers, making an 'o' shape with my mouth.

"Oooh, I'm _really_ scared. Daddy Midget is coming after me!" We had a good old chuckle again before Ron remembered that he didn't like me, and abruptly stopped to get to the library. Hermione and I followed him, and soon, we had to be no louder than a mouse. The librarian gave us funny looks when we entered.

"NO TALKING!" Mrs Pince screamed. That really defeated the purpose, but I don't think she noticed.

Once we had a found a safe spot to talk quietly, we sat ourselves down. The library was an amazing place – apart from the mountain of books on old wizards, spells, potions, the aerodynamics of broomsticks, yaddy yadda – where the books floated above your heads, replacing themselves in their correct positions whenever someone returned them to the librarian. That mustn't have required a lot of effort. Imagine just chucking the Narnia collection into the air and they just magically find their own way back?

"Okay," began Hermione, once I was done staring above us. We had resumed to our usual formation of me, Hermione and Ron. I felt that, at least, Ron was starting to warm up to me since I had not been lying about myself, "What should we look for?"

"Returning memories spell?" Hermione clicked her tongue at Ron's suggestion.

"That'll be a very difficult one to cast, although I don't suppose we have any better ideas." When I looked about as blank as a newly-painted wall, Hermione was off, zipping past the enormous shelves to find the right spell book just for me. Well, her. I was no good at casting spells, as evident in Charms lesson. That left me and Ron to sit there together, awkwardly fiddling our thumbs.

The tension was a bit too thick for me, so I naturally used my awesome and cheerful charisma to lighten the atmosphere.

"Nice weather we're having."

A short pause.

"It's raining." My mouth dropped on my face a little, as I leaned back on the chair to get a glimpse at the window. It was lashing down outside, the droplets unyielding.

"Oh," came my reply. We went back to just sitting. It was pleasant.

"So… do you like Oreos?"

"Never heard of them."

"You've never heard of Oreos? You haven't lived."

"Apparently, neither have you, according to your memory." Got me there.

We sat in silence again. Where the Hades was Hermione?

"'Catch the game last night?"

Ron's face lit like a child at Christmas, and I'd thought I'd actually struck a topic that I could talk about (sorta'), "By Merlin's upper-lip mole, the Tutshill Tornados got thrashed by the Chuddly Cannons! It was so epic when Stark made that pass – Keeper completely misjudged his block and it went right through the hoop! Then I guess Potts whacked him in the head with a bludger, but, eh, nothing a bit of Skele-Grow can't fix-"

"Forget I asked," I said, shaking my head. He totally lost me at 'Merlin's upper-lip mole', "I'm going to find Herms. She's taking too long." As I stood, he stood too, and we exchanged totally determined and manly faces.

"I'm going with you."

"Well, I don't need you to hold my hand, if that's what you're implying," I said, smirking as an irritated frown passed his face. We both separated, me going one way and Ron going the other, to scour the isles in search for the brainy brunette. Ron and I passed each other several times, becoming more determined to find Hermione before the other every time. Just as I was sneaking around the ancient runes section, I heard small conversation coming right from the back, just at the entrance of the 'restricted section'.

Why would they have a restricted section if it's restricted? There's surely no point having it if no-one can go inside? It's like pinning up a sign saying 'Oh, you want to get a book from here? TOO BAD, SUCKER. IT'S RESTRICTED'.

Either way, I poked my head around the next isle to my left. It was Hermione, in deep conversation with a Slytherin boy whose back was turned. I glanced at Hermione's book: it was large, very thick and written in a language I didn't understand, although it looked like a bunch of hieroglyphics. While I was distracted, Ron rushed past me, loyally appearing next to Hermione like a dog. She looked a little surprised.

"Ron? What are you doing here?" She asked, peering up at him a little anxiously. She knew how Ron was around other houses that happened to be dressed in green and white.

He shrugged like it was nothing, although you could see he was uncomfortable around the other boy, "Oh, just wondered where you were," I snorted, making my presence known and appearing out from behind the bookshelf.

Hermione smiled sheepishly, "Well, there was nothing to 'wonder' about. I was just talking to-"

"-A _Slytherin_," he finished, with disdain. Hermione scowled at him like he had spoken a rude word. She seemed to do that a lot with Ron.

Then the boy, also clutching a huge book, turned to us. In that instant, my eyes widened so much they started to water. Shivers ran down my spine and my blood turned very cold. He was _so_ familiar that I almost buckled to my knees. Hermione noticed my discomfort and grabbed my arm (much to Ron's obvious jealousy) to stop me from creating a book avalanche.

"Are you okay, Percy?"

I regained my balance steadily and she let go, "Um, yeah, fine," I lied, pleased that the Verita Serum had worn off. But the Slytherin boy kept tapping on my brain, like a thousand fingers poking me simultaneously. He cocked an eyebrow in return, but then looked at Ron.

"There's nothing wrong with a little bit of ambition and cunning," he retorted, returning his attention back to me and staring at me in confusion, "You said your name was Percy?"

Ron mumbled something to himself, before crossing his arms. I gulped.

"Yeah, yeah it is. Percy Jackson." He didn't seem to react, just nodding like he was pretending to care, but not actually.

I couldn't help myself and asked, "Sorry, what did you say your name was, again?"

The boy, with uneven jet-black raven hair that fell to his shoulder and deathly pale skin, looked at me suspiciously at first, before eventually replying, "I didn't, but I'm Nico. Nico di Angelo."

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Epic plot twist lololol.

In terms of when this takes place, I'd like to think that, in Percy's world, the war is over. They've stopped Gaia eating up the earth, closed the doors of death, blah blah. Concerning Harry, it takes place around the Half-Blood Prince. Sort of. He hasn't defeated Voldemort yet, but he knows he's still out there. Imagine he 'took a break' fighting evil for a year.

Harry and Percy are the same age, btw. I suppose that this means that this fanfiction is AU. Sorry to those that don't like AU.

Still, I do enjoy reading your reviews (even if I can't reply to guests). Do please leave one at the doorstep.

Many thanks,

~ GD

Also thanks to my irl friends Shippuu-Ookami and MY GRANDMOTHER for being cool.


	4. Hera the Hopeless

GD is back for more awesomeness! Omigosh, it's actually getting exciting now. :D

Just to note, people,** I am aware that last chapter was similar to The Son of Neptune.** I have read all of the HP books and all of the currently-released Percy Jackson/ Heroes of Olympus books (save Demigod Diaries, which I don't count. :P Although I intend to read it soon). It is intended, but, I can assure you, I am not planning on copying the books. That's just boring.

Thank you to all the reviews, favourites and story alerts. I seriously cannot say how much I appreciate them! :3 I've also discovered that you can edit guest reviews, so that is how I will reply to them.

Anywho, enjoy~

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Nope. No way. It wasn't true. Harry wasn't going to believe it.

Being told that he's the son of a Greek goddess should have sent him into a fit of happiness. Demigods were cool – they could fly, summon lightning using a hammer, slam into people, things like that. Well, that was just Thor, but Harry didn't really see the difference.

Thing is, he wasn't excited. Somehow, the prospect of being half-human, half-god terrified him. In Greek mythology, heroes wouldn't ever get a break. They'd all fight for some gallant cause, and then die. It was all so melodramatic that Harry didn't believe a word of it, until he set foot into Camp Half-Blood.

He protested adamantly that he was definitely not a son of a goddess, but Chiron just brushed him off.

"You've been claimed, so it is official," was his reply. Annabeth, Leo and Piper had all congratulated him. Hecate was especially interesting because she was the goddess of sorcery and random facts, meaning Harry probably had the ability to perform all sorts of tricks and confuse people with bouts of meaningless information.

Chiron had led the four demigods (technically three demigods plus one very-reluctant-to-be-called-a-demigod demigod) to the Hecate cabin. Although Harry didn't want to go in, it was a very impressive-looking place: there were two large torches at the very entrance, crossing at the top and burning with a green flame. Just above that were a crescent moon and a star symbol etched into the wood. Chiron gestured to the door.

"This is where you'll be staying, Harry," he said. The walls of the cabin were modern, with large windows making up the sides, although they were tinted so you couldn't see in clearly. As Harry neared it, there were a two figures inside, standing up as the group approached. Leo whistled.

"Swanky."

Chiron turned to the three of them, "Since you're all acquainted with each other, I trust you can help Harry settle into his new cabin? See to it that his roommates help too," as Annabeth nodded, Chiron turned away, "I'm sorry, but I must be off. It seems Alty, Ezio and Connor are fighting over who has the better sword. _Again_." Harry turned to the direction Chiron was facing: sure enough, three burly kids head-to-toe in golden armour were throwing insults at each other in Ancient Greek. Chiron galloped off, and Harry stared at the cabin again. It didn't exactly feel cosy.

Leo took another step forward, hands on hips, "Nice. I suppose. The torches are a little eerie," he scratched his chin, mentally redecorating the exterior, "Oh, well, it's nicer than the Athena cabin."

"Hey," objected Annabeth as Leo smirked.

"Just joking. Or am I?" Leo laughed nervously as Annabeth glared at him, hand hovering over her knife, "Alright, calm it, princess. I _was_ joking. So, Harry, if you ever need someone too cool for school, come visit me in my cabs." Leo pointed to a very technologically-advanced hut that was perched in the middle of the U-shape.

"Or me," began Piper, pointing to a ridiculously pretty cabin next to Hephaestus' kids headquarters, "I'll be happy to help you with anything, if you want."

"Thanks," Harry said reluctantly, glancing back and forth between them and the Hecate cabin. They stood outside expectantly.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Leo.

Harry paused, "Nothing. What are _you_ waiting for?"

"I'm waiting for you to go in. I want to see what it's like inside…"

"Oh, Leo," said Annabeth exasperated, "Come on. The Hecate cabin isn't going to be any better than the Hephaestus cabin. We'll let you settle in, Harry." And the three of them left him alone, about to go solo in amongst a bunch of strangers. He walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

Within seconds, a boy around his age with floppy blonde hair opened the door, and blinked uncertainly.

"Inspection isn't for another couple of days," he said, about to shut the door before Harry stopped him.

"No, I just got here. I'm a-" he hesitated at saying 'son of Hecate', mostly because his instincts told him that he wasn't. Luckily, he was saved as a girl, who he recognised from the counsellors meeting, bounded up to him and grinned. Her thick, chocolate brown hair was tightly pulled back into a high ponytail, her green eyes sparkled, and she stood almost as tall as Harry.

"You're a son of Hecate? Wow, that's brilliant – shame we missed your claiming. Nice to officially meet you, Harry," she said, extending her hand, "My name's Lou Ellen. I'm head counsellor of this cabin – the _best_ cabin, by the way."

Harry shook her hand, with a small smile, "Nice to meet you too."

Lou turned to her roommate who had answered the door, "Luth, this is Harry Potter. Harry Potter, Luth Laudimus."

The blonde boy didn't smile, but only waved his hand and replied in a monotone voice, "Nice to meet you." His perfectly straight locks fell to his shoulders and his blue orbs shined bright. He'd have looked like he was created by an angel if his eyes didn't have that sad undertone to them.

Luth opened the door for Harry to step inside. Although blurry, he could see balls of flames dancing above his head, all changing colour like mood rings. The bunk beds were richly adorned with greens, blues and purples, with the liveliest pattern belonging to the four-poster double bed right at the back. The wall hangings were woven from silks, depicting pictures of magicians and sorcerers from before. It was extraordinary.

Harry took another step and accidentally stepped on Luth's foot. He recoiled away as Luth yelped.

"Sorry," he said, feeling extremely guilty, "I don't have my glasses, so I can't really see." Lou waved it off.

"Ah, don't worry about it," she said, slapping Luth on the back merrily, "He'll get over it. You don't have your glasses, you say? No worries – I'll whip up a pair for you. What are your eye ratings?"

He stared at her in confusion, "Er, seven in this eye, six in this one." If he could just conjure specs from anywhere he'd have been rich. As Luth's bored expression returned, Lou Ellen flexed her fingers and chanted something in Greek. Sure enough, a little pair of round glasses appeared on the table in front of her. She cringed as Harry's eyes widened.

"Oh, gods, that's a really ugly pair. Don't worry; I'll get you some other ones-"

"No," said Harry, picking up the glasses with a weird sense of happiness and nostalgia, "No. These are perfect. Thank you." He slid them onto his head and suddenly the world became HD. He could see every scratch on the floor, every pimple on Lou Ellen's face, every hair on Luth's head. And he relished the sight.

He felt a sense of relief. At least now he could see where he was going to in greater detail instead of treading on peoples' feet, "Really, thanks. These are great." Lou Ellen beamed.

"No problem," she said, almost blushing, "I've been practicing that spell for a while now. It's nice that I can actually use it for something. My other attempts, well… not so good." Luth chuckled, and Lou shot him a look.

"Hey – I got better, didn't I? So, yeah. This is our cabin and we're your half-siblings. Guess you can see it better now, right?" Harry nodded. The flames fascinated him – they floated harmlessly in the air and tiptoed on his head when he wasn't aware.

He didn't belong here, but the cabin was actually nice, despite the outside appearance. Lou Ellen was a cool girl. Even Luth had a charm to him, although it was dampened by his constant depressive frown.

Lou skipped to a little single bed just in front of a long pot plant, "This will be your bed. Sorry if it's not as cosy as you want it to be." Harry patted the covers. The surface was neither as hard as a rock nor as soft as a baby's bottom, which made him a little sad.

"No worries. I'll get used to it," a gut feeling Harry suddenly had told him that he already was used to it, but he didn't say that out loud, "Can you tell me more about Hecate?"

Lou sat on the end of his bed as Luth wordlessly sat on a chair opposite, "Sure! Hecate's the goddess of trivia, crossroads, necromancy and the best one of all - magic." A shiver ran up Harry's spine but he didn't know why, "She's a minor goddess and was kinda' on the bad side during the Titan War, but then-"

"Sorry, sorry," interrupted Harry as Lou silenced, "But you said magic. Does this mean we can all..?"

"Perform spells and stuff? Yep! Like I fabricated some glasses for you," she nodded eagerly, before laughing, "You know, they say that the oldest magicians, like Merlin, were descended from Hecate. I guess you could say we're like witches and wizards."

Harry felt the weird nostalgic sensation again. He felt a tugging on his gut like a memory of his was trying desperately to break free.

Luth smiled hollowly, "Congrats. You're a wizard, Harry." His dry humour made Lou giggle a bit, but Harry suddenly felt very anxious. Something about this whole idea felt right yet wrong at the same time.

"So, anyway. The Titan War. I guess you weren't around for that, but basically Kronos and a few of the minor gods, Hecate included, waged war against Olympus. Then there was a huge fight in Manhattan, blah blah blah, and Olympus won. Percy Jackson was the hero that defeated Kronos and he got offered immortality-"

"Wait, Percy Jackson? The guy who's missing?" asked Harry. Lou nodded sadly.

"Yep, that's the one. He's pretty famous around here. He was part of this big prophecy too."

Harry just nodded, but all of this god stuff was making his head spin.

"Anyway, I was with Kronos," she admitted, "I mean, mom did tell us to fight by her side, and of course I couldn't let her down." She turned to Luth, expecting him to say something.

He pursed his lips but his expression remained unchanged, "I was a bad guy, too."

Lou Ellen continued, "But it was okay when we lost – Hecate was forgiven and we finally got a cabin at camp. And here we are." She threw out her arms, gesturing to about everything, "Camp Half-Blood's not much, but it is home. It's better than being out there, killing off monsters for the rest of our lives."

"Wait… what?"

"Oh, yeah, that's the down side of being a demigod. Monsters who can't be actually killed want to constantly eat you."

"… Great," said Harry, sarcastically. Lou smiled sympathetically.

"It's not so bad. If you stay here, you'll be completely protected. That's what we do at Camp Half-Blood – ready ourselves for the outside world. Usually it's a summer camp, but Luth and I are year-rounders. There'd be tons more other campers here too if it was summer."

Luth just nodded in agreement, before standing up.

"I'll be in the woods. Need to practice," without another word or an explanation, Luth breezed out of the cabin, leaving Harry alone with Lou. Now that he had left, the air seemed lighter.

"Oh, that boy," Lou scolded, "Sorry about him, Harry. He's always quite quiet, and he doesn't really show much emotion, plus he's not good with new people. The woods seem to be the only place Luth likes being, except here. He's always there practicing his sorcery." She muttered something like 'might overtake me in skill someday' that was loud enough for Harry to hear but not loud enough that he should acknowledge it.

"Still, he's my brother, and he's the only one I have here right now. The rest are either at school, on the run or on quests. Speaking of which, I need to get that organised…" Harry had kinda' zoned out at this point. There was a whole new world that he didn't even know about. It was strange to think that now he was part of it. Even worse, he thought demigods got the easy life. The way Lou described it though; it seemed like anything but paradise.

Lou smiled at him, believing that he was still listening, "So, anyway, do you want me to show around camp? I mean, you've got your glasses now, so you should be able to see better than before." Harry just smiled and stood up.

"Sure, let's go."

=#=#=#=

Harry felt like he had never been in a place that was so free. The fields, he discovered, were overflowing with strawberry bushes, and that the camp used their cover name as Delphi Strawberry Service to make money when they needed it.

The people here had really piled the camp with Greek stuff. The training facilities that were available were first-class: a rock-climbing wall with lava, multiple sword-fighting arenas, a real-size amphitheatre, even a life-like chariot track. There was a giant Parthenon in the middle where everyone ate – like a huge canteen, and their beaches connected with the sea south of Long Island. You could easily get lost but never bored.

After Lou had shown Harry around, which had taken the whole morning, she returned back to the cabin to clean up a little. Harry offered to help, but she told him she didn't need it, and that he should go find something to do while the sun was up. So Harry found himself back in the U-shape of cabins – he needed to talk to Annabeth. She seemed to be the only one who he felt like he could trust.

He approached the Athena cabin. Like Leo had teased, it wasn't as cool as his own. Plain, but decorated with owls and the like, Harry knocked warily on the front. A boy, with brown hair but the same startling grey eyes eventually opened the door.

"Yeah?" he grunted. Harry peeked behind him – the room was simple and traditional, unlike his colourful cabin.

"I'm looking for Annabeth," he said. The Athena guy sighed.

"She's not here," he replied, trying to smile, "Knowing her, she'd be at the beach, probably thinking about her lost boyfriend." Harry nodded in thanks and was back on the move not before long, making his way to the shore. Exactly like her brother had predicted, the blonde girl sat was walking alone on the edge, obviously deep in thought. She hardly noticed Harry until he spoke.

"Annabeth?"

Annabeth jumped, alarmed, "Oh!" She turned around, instantly regaining her cool composure, "Oh, Harry. Don't sneak up on me like that. I might flip you over again." Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Annabeth was keeping her calm rather well for the girlfriend of a boy who had disappeared off the face of the earth twice.

"Sorry," he began, "I just need to talk to you."

She tightened her lips but didn't look away, "Sure. What did you want to ask?"

"I don't need to ask anything. I wanted to say that I am absolutely, positively _one-hundred per cent_ certain that I am not a son of Hecate. I mean, no offence to, er, her, but I know I have parents elsewhere who are both humans."

Annabeth sighed, crossing her arms and staring at Harry. You could tell she was in thought since her eyes darted about, trying to read him like some sort of book.

"That's a pretty serious accusation to make," she said, twirling around back to face the beach, "I don't really know what to say. You've forgotten who you are, yet even though you've been claimed by a god you say you're not a half-blood?"

Harry nodded. He knew it was pretty serious, but just saying 'son of Hecate' and 'Harry' in the same sentence made him shudder. It was just… wrong, somehow.

"Yeah. That's what I'm saying."

Annabeth swung back around, "Have you tried to use any demigod powers?"

Harry shook his head. He had seen Lou Ellen make a pair of glasses pop out from thin air. He highly doubted he'd even be able to conjure pin let alone a pair of specs. Annabeth continued.

"I mean, if you were unsuccessful in using magic then I guess that makes you a clear-sighted mortal… but that _still_ doesn't explain the claiming. Why would a god claim someone who wasn't their child?"

"I guess we'll never know until I have a try," said Harry determinedly, "Got anything simple I can cast?"

=#=#=#=

The duo, along with Lou Ellen who had come to help, sat on the deck of the Big House around a rickety wooden table. A little plant pot sat on top, containing only a handful of soil.

"Alright," said Annabeth, clapping her hands together, "Make magic, Harry."

"Yes, close your eyes and focus your mind on your hands. Just concentrate to begin with. Then, imagine the plant pot rising into the air, like it was being pulled by a rope in your hands."

Harry closed his eyes. His hands rose over the table, like he was about to grab the plant. And then he focused.

He had no idea what he was meant to be thinking, when he 'focused'. He supposed, since he was trying to levitate the pot plant, the pot plant was the object he had to think of.

Pot plants were everything. They were green. Bushy. Kinda' prickly. This particular one was a tiny round bulb bursting full of leaves. The pot was brown, and cylindrical in shape.

Harry imagined himself attaching a rope onto the top and gently tugging it upwards. In his mind, the pot plant floated into the air. It was only a couple of centimetres off of the ground, but Harry thought that would be a good start.

He cracked an eye open. The real pot plant was still lying there. Nothing had happened.

He looked doubtfully at the two girls. Lou Ellen was smirking.

"Sorry," she said, wiping her expression clean of any smugness, "Your face was just so hardcore it was funny."

Harry glared at her. That was totally not helping.

"Try again," Annabeth urged, glancing at Lou with disapproval. Harry closed his eyes again and repeated his thinking progress. One leaf on the plant had fallen into the soil. It was a tiny leaf, with many creases. It was a rich, forest green colour.

"Heheh," chuckled Lou Ellen. Harry wondered what the heck she found so funny now – thinking it was probably his face – when he opened an eye.

The little leaf his mind had accidentally wandered to was floating, just a little above the stationary pot plant. He stared at in surprise while Lou Ellen giggled. Instantly, he broke his concentration and the leaf swayed harmlessly back onto the plant.

"Congrats," she said, winking at him, "You managed to levitate a leaf."

"But that's better than nothing," input Annabeth, glimpsing at Harry. He was so confused – the leaf shouldn't have lifted off the ground. Was he really a son of Hecate and he was just very mistaken in his instincts?

"Well, we can keep working on it, if you like. Although you already look exhausted." Lou was right. Harry felt drained even though he had performed hardly any magic. It probably didn't help that last night he had gone for a night-time stroll around the camp.

Annabeth nodded firmly, "Right, I agree. Enough for today. I think we should report this to Chiron, Harry." Her voice sounded a little fake, and Harry understood why. Lou Ellen left the two alone on the deck of the Big House, where they began to talk in hushed whispers.

"That's stone-cold proof," said the blonde, poking at the pot plant to check that it wasn't a phoney, "That means you're a demigod."

"That can't be right," he said stubbornly, closing his eyes and trying again. When he opened them again, the whole plant pot was just a tiny amount off of the table, before dropping again forcefully.

"Stop," Annabeth commanded, looking worried, "You'll drain yourself further."

"I just wanted to see whether it was me or Lou," he said, gritting his teeth. This wasn't right. Annabeth shrugged.

"Listen, when you say you don't think you're a demigod, I believe you," Harry gazed at her, surprised. He honestly assumed that she would just say he's a demigod, tell him to get over it and call it a day. But she hadn't, and that reassured Harry.

"Well, thanks. That's someone."

"I can tell when people lie, so I can tell when people tell the truth. You honestly believe your parents are mortal?"

"Yes," he said again, certainty oozing at his tone, "Absolutely. No-one apart from you believes me though. They probably think I'm seeking attention."

"Or running from the truth," Annabeth sighed, "This is so weird. Gods, how are we going to deal with this?" She drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. Harry wasn't sure she was just talking about his amnesia episode.

"Okay, I think there's only one thing we can do."

Harry sat up, "And that would be?"

"Search for your memories. Search for Percy. And by that I mean go on a quest."

=#=#=#=

In the evening time, all of the campers hustled into the Mess Hall. It was a very grand room – the ceiling was draped with tapestries of the symbols of the gods, as well as having Greek words inscribed on the walls. In front of the biggest table right at the back was a huge bonfire that crackled with different colours.

Harry sat at a little table dedicated to Hecate, with his apparent half-siblings Lou and Luth beside him. The campers seemed a little less spirited as he would have thought, although he guessed it was due to the disappearance of the famous Percy Jackson.

The nymphs filed in, throwing food so expertly that they landed exactly on the table in front of the camper. After waiting for less than ten seconds, a nice bowl of warm soup landed on the table by Harry's cutlery. It was steaming, green with fresh vegetables but still very delicious-looking.

"Tonight!" called Chiron, as the room silenced with only the shuffling of nymphs to be heard, "We will dine in respect. Percy Jackson has gone missing once again, and it is our duty to see him return! Every camper here is to offer their scraps to Hera – we need to be able to see if her lady is behind another exchange program."

There was a general consensus of nods before Chiron allowed everyone to dig in. Harry hadn't realised how hungry he was until the smell of swede filled his mouth. He practically inhaled his soup and asked for seconds.

While he waited (which didn't take long), Harry scanned the area. Over at the Hephaestus table, Leo was sharing a joke with his brothers and sisters, who all seemed to find it funny. Piper was conversing intensely with the other Aphrodite kids at her table.

Annabeth was the only one that wasn't really saying anything to her half-siblings. It looked like they were in a serious discussion, but Annabeth's mind was focused elsewhere. Harry had a pretty good feeling what was bugging her.

When the evening meal had finished, the campers lined up towards the hearth to offer their food to the goddess of marriage, Hera. Harry wondered idly as he queued up whether firstly, Hera liked vegetable soup and secondly what on earth he should say to her. Did they pray or something?

When his turn came around, Harry poured the remains of the dish in the hearth, and it crackled with an eerie green glow. Harry hoped that was just the colour of the peas showing through.

"Uh, Hera," he whispered, feeling a bit stupid, "Could really do with your, er, _inspiring_ wisdom right now. I've lost my memory and Percy Jackson's gone missing. Cheers." And with that, Harry circled around and sat back down at the table.

Lou Ellen smiled as he came back, "Say something that'd convince her?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. Hope so." Lou Ellen nodded confidently as the final round of campers offered sacrifices to Hera. Then Chiron stood.

"Let us hope that the goddess appears. For now, however, we shall move to the amphitheatre."

Harry had never been to sing-a-longs, but when he went to this one, boy was he glad he hadn't. The songs chosen were corny, mostly sung out of tune (except from the Apollo campers – keen beans…) that everyone had to join in with. It kinda' made Harry's head hurt.

And then, smack bang where Will Solace was grinding out the melodies, there was a bright light.

Campers shielded their eyes, some screaming. Harry had to squeeze his tight, the glow was blinding. When it had finally died down, Harry dared to look – where the light was stood a woman that radiated nobility and grace. She wore white Greek robes that flowed down her figure, and her smooth hair was tied into a neat bun. Harry could swear she was still glowing, like a firefly. The demigods bowed, so Harry followed suit.

Chiron knelt onto one horse leg, looking very pleased, "Lady Hera, it is an honour for you to join us."

=#=#=#=

Hera seemed less pleased than Chiron did. She appeared grumpy as if she had just woken up from bed, and yet she still managed to look beautiful. Her skin was flawless, like a newly-ironed bed sheet.

"Chiron," she greeted plainly, glancing around at the other campers as her glow reflected on their faces, "Demigods. Pleasure, as always."

Harry could just hear Annabeth, who had taken a seat next to him, petulant.

"I thank you for your offerings. I appreciate them," she said, although it sounded more like she was expecting better. Harry knitted his eyebrows as he straightened – weren't goddesses meant to be kindly and stuff?

"So," she began casually, regarding Chiron again, "If what I have heard is true, Percy Jackson has gone missing?" She didn't sound at all sad about this prospect, which made Chiron a little uncomfortable. He shifted his weight onto his front hooves.

"Yes, that is correct. Harry Potter woke up in his place-" he gestured to the said boy, who stood up to make himself known, "Lady Hera, we were wondering if you switched him and Percy for another exchanged program?"

The goddess laughed. Not a nice, 'hahah that's hilarious' laugh, but more like a 'how could you even think about such a stupid idea?' laugh. It didn't make Harry feel much better about himself.

"Another exchange program? What use would I have for another exchange program? I already used Percy for what he was needed for." At that last sentence, Annabeth growled and clenched her fists. Harry had to shoot her a warning glance – he didn't want her to mess up a chance to have his memories returned, even if he knew about their hatred for each other.

Leo stood up, waving his arm to be notice, "Er, sorry, lady, but we thought you might have another demigod camp somewhere else around the world."

Hera cackled wildly. The idea was as foreign as the country of Harry's origin, it seemed. Even Harry was becoming a little irritated by her behaviour now. No wonder Annabeth and she hadn't ever been best friends forever.

"Are you foolish, Leo Valdez? The Western Civilisation moved to North America many years ago. We do not – and certainly _I _do not– mix with the mortals of other continents. They are beyond our realms of power," she retorted at the son of Hephaestus, whose face had turned a little red in embarrassment, "And I think I would know if I were _three_-way schizophrenic, thank you very much."

"Just asking, Mrs. Grumpy Pants…" he mumbled. She shot him daggers, but didn't say anything else when he sat down. Annabeth spoke up instead.

"So you don't know why Harry's here and where Percy is gone?"

Hera turned to her, face souring, "Ah, daughter of Athena. I never said I knew nothing." Annabeth's eyes flashed with anger.

"Don't tell me you're going to be cryptic and _not_ tell us where he is."

Mrs. Grumpy Pants pursed her lips, "I-"

But she cut off mid-sentence, suddenly buckling to her knees and clutching her forehead. She began violently shaking, and gasps erupted throughout the crowd. Most of the campers stood up, wondering what was going on. She didn't cry out. She didn't say anything. Then, after about ten seconds of furious quaking, there was another bright light, and Harry covered his eyes again.

When he dared to look, someone new stood in Hera's place. Although she still retained her elegance, her eyes had become a dark and menacing, and her hair was as black as the night. She wore an expression of stone-cold seriousness.

"I cannot tell you anything," the woman began, glancing in Harry's direction with sudden malice. He widened his eyes, "You are treading on the wrong toes. If you dare to proceed further, I _will_ take every necessary action to stop you."

And just like that, she disappeared into the night sky. Harry's heart was racing and he was sweating so much he could fill a bath tub. Annabeth turned to him agonisingly.

"Was that Juno? And what… what did she mean by that?" she spoke, barely a whisper. Harry's shocked face said it all – he had no idea either. All around, campers had turned to stare.

One kid from the Ares cabin piped up, "What does Hera – well, Juno – mean, 'take every necessary action to stop you'? Stop you from doing what?"

"I- I don't know," said Harry, who swallowed hard. Juno's icy tone had made him feel like he was dropping into a spiral of hate. Clarisse from the Area cabin stood up abruptly and pointed an accusing finger at the bespectacled boy.

"How can you _not know_? Are you hiding something?!" she yelled. The campers murmured amongst themselves, and Harry didn't like their expressions or his chances anymore.

"No!" he protested, but the murmuring became louder, until it was past the point where campers were shouting at each other, most of them demanding for Harry to tell them what he was hiding.

"Be quiet!" came a sudden voice. Everyone silenced like they had just been switched off. Even Harry, who wanted to defend his innocence, shut his mouth like a trap set off. His green-eyed gaze settled on Piper, with her choppy hair and adamant expression, standing amongst the Aphrodite throng.

"All of this shouting is _not_ helping," she said, soothing the crowd with her powerful yet alluring voice, "Let's be rational about this."

Another girl from the same cabin, with long black hair drawn back in a ponytail, jumped up and barked, "He might be a spy for someone, trying to turn the gods against us or something!"

"Silence!" yelled Chiron, particularly glaring at the blacknette from the Aphrodite cabin, "We will not have this ruckus at the amphitheatre. Everyone get back to your cabins now. Harry, Annabeth; I need to speak to you."

Grudgingly, it appeared, the campers left the scene. Most scowled uncertainly at Harry, who couldn't meet any of their gazes, on their way out. He had no idea what Hera was talking about, guessing that maybe he was a mafia boss in his past life, or something.

Someone squeezed his shoulder. Harry turned around to the solemn and doubtful faces of Lou and Luth, who had sat behind him during this entire ordeal. Both looked equally confused, but they weren't glaring at him. Lou smiled sympathetically, before leaving with Luth and the rest of the crowd.

Soon, only Annabeth and Harry remained along with Chiron. His face was blank, but he was as rigid as a Greek column.

"I don't know – really, I-"

Chiron sighed, holding up and hand to silence the boy, "I believe you, Harry."

Relief washed over him. The last thing he wanted was the camp director watching his every move. Annabeth looked less convinced.

"But then what was Juno talking about?"

Chiron shook his head, "I don't know myself. None of us know. I find it even stranger that Hera changed to her Roman form… First thing tomorrow morning, Harry, visit Rachel in the Big House. She is our Oracle, so perhaps she can give you a prophecy and shed some light on this situation."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Would a simple prophecy make everything alright? He was certain he had encountered prophecies before – and, as he recalled these feelings, all were about as unpleasant as he felt now. The campers weren't too keen on this foreign son of Hecate anymore, which didn't help matters.

Harry was about to expand on the situation, secure his guiltlessness again, when Annabeth interrupted him with a scream of delight.

"Oh my gods, Thalia!"

Harry was startled. He turned around, just to see the blonde sprinting as fast as she could up the path to a girl with raven-black cropped hair and a silver circlet sitting on her head. She grinned, opening her arms to accept a hug.

Chiron smiled, even though it didn't feel quite genuine, "Thalia, and the Hunters of Artemis. What a pleasure to see you."

Thalia and a group of girls, all wearing identical silver cloaks with hoods appeared from the darkness. All were heavily armed with swords, bows and arrows, shields, the works. Harry's first thought was to never, _ever_ mess with them, whoever they are.

"Sorry to drop in so late," said Thalia, as Annabeth finally released her, "I came when Grover contacted me via Iris-message to say that Percy had gone missing."

"Oh, thank the gods," said Annabeth hurriedly, "I need all the help I can get. Have you heard any news?"

Thalia looked grave, as did the rest of the Hunters of Artemis, "Sorry, but I haven't seen him. Not Jupiter again?"

"Nope, not this time. Hera won't tell us anything," she finally remembered Harry's presence amongst the group, and smiled sheepishly, "Oh, I forgot to say. This is Thalia and the Hunters of Artemis, Harry. Thalia and company, this is Harry Potter. Newest demigod – son of Hecate."

Thalia merely nodded as Harry said flatly, "Hi." He wasn't really in the mood to play meet-and-greet. The other girls apparently felt the same, regarding him with extreme disdain. It made him feel very uncomfortable.

"Speaking of new demigods, while we were out and about we came across another addition to your camp for you. Although she says she might join our group."

From the ranks of the Hunters one poked out with an odd spring to her step. She was shorter than Thalia, and her hair was long, blonde, wavy and bounced on her shoulders. Her eyes were huge, grey and forever looked as if she was in dreamland. The very presence of her made Harry feel like he had been spinning around like a nutter.

"Hello," said the girl, smiling brightly like the sun was out, "I'm Luna Lovegood. I hope you protect your strawberry fields against gnomes."

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Sorry it's so long. I had a lot to write.

Review, please!

Thanks, as always,

~ GD

PS. Thanks to Leprechaun for... reading this. And being rubbish at AC3. But more for reading this.


	5. Draco has a Height Complex

Heya! GD here. Just dropping another chappy. Can I let you all know that I insert a buttload of references in my fanfictions? So if you see anything familiar... :D

Also, HI KT, LEP, EV. YOU GUYS ARE COOL. TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL. No, wait...

On with the show!

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Nico di Angelo. Sounded like a name for an Italian taco, but I didn't say that out loud. I figured that would annoy him more than he already had been which wasn't really what I wanted. But my gut was yelling, practically writhing around in my body, like it was telling me something. Maybe it was hungry.

Hermione introduced herself with a smile, "Well, I'm Hermione Granger. It's nice to meet you, Nico." She waited as the library filled with silence again before nudging Ron in the stomach.

He coughed, clearing his throat and mumbling, "Ron Weasley," with lots of reluctance. Nico nodded, face mostly blank.

"A Weasley? Should have known by the hair. You look a lot like your sister."

"You _know_ Ginny?" Ron must have been wondering what a turd like Nico was doing chatting to his sister, because his face turned to pure revulsion. Nico just rolled his eyes.

"Merlin's beard, calm down. I'm not going to take her face or something…" The Slytherin kid obviously didn't get the memo that Ron hated anyone wearing identical uniform to Draco Malfoy. Although with a face like Nico's, even the most controlled of people could be worried he was going to steal their soul. He had those kind of eyes – dark and unforgiving.

"Anyway," began Hermione, ripping the tension like a slice of bread, "I was just talking to Nico about a book, on the origins of witchcraft and wizardry." When Ron gave her a funny look, she just sighed.

"I was in this isle and I saw Nico holding that book, so I told him it was a good – but farfetched – read and he started talking to me."

Nico held the book up for Ron and me to see. It was written in some funny language – which I presumed would be in ancient runes, the section we were currently standing in – as well as being older than Mrs Pince's great times-five grandshoe.

"Wassit' called?" input Ron.

"_On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _Duh," said Nico, who was clearly younger than us. Ron's ears turned pink with embarrassment. It was actually kinda' funny.

Hermione tightened her grip on the book she held, "Yes. All a load of codswallop if you ask me."

"A load of what?" I asked.

"Never mind. But the book is all about theories on how witchcraft and wizardry came to be. Ridiculous theories if you ask me. Things like we are all descendent of gods."

Nico snorted, staring at the book with a raised eyebrow, "Seriously? That's a bit stupid. Wizards and witches have existed since the beginning of time. There's no such thing as 'gods'."

"Exactly," agreed Hermione, as Nico decided to replace the book on the shelf. I shifted uncomfortably – gods? It was a far cry of an idea, but not totally farfetched. I mean, didn't they have gods of magic and stuff? It was kinda' plausible.

Nico di Angelo sighed, "Guess I'll have to find another book to help me with my History of Magic essay…" he grumbled, flicking some of his hair back. In that second, he actually reminded me of Snape. It was a highly disturbing and traumatic moment that I wish to never speak of again.

"If your essay is on the past, may I suggest _The Magical History of Magic_ by Evangeline Walkelly? That has plenty of information to help you. It's in the fifth isle, down at the right by the bottom."

Ron and I just stared at her. She was so smart she knew the location of certain books in the library?

Nico di Angelo made a small smile, "Thanks. See you around Hermione, Ron, Percy." And with that, the Slytherin boy skirted away, melting into the shadows of the tall shelves that towered above us. Hermione beamed once he had left.

"He seemed nice, for a Slytherin," she said, turning back to us.

"He wasn't as bad as he looked, I suppose…" mumbled Ron, still a bit jealous that a boy in a lower year had completely outsmarted him and made him look like a total clown in front of Hermione.

"Are all Slytherins bad?" I asked. Hermione answered quickly before Ron could say anything.

"No. It just so happens that Salazar Slytherin, whom the house was named after, didn't exactly have the purest intentions-"

"-You could say that again…"

"-and the house itself has produced the most dark wizards." I gulped. Now I was pretty glad I didn't call him an Italian taco.

"Like You-Know-Who."

"Draco?" Ron smacked his face.

"No. Draco's a lost puppy in comparison to this. You-Know-Who's the darkest, most evil wizard of all time. No-one likes saying his proper name so we call him You-Know-Who or the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He has it out for Harry, and he can't be killed."

Hermione leaned over to my ear, "His actual name is Voldemort, but don't say that in front of Ron. He's a little afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" Ron protested loudly.

"QUIET!" yelled Mrs Pince, who appeared from outta' nowhere and made all three of us jump from our skins. She glowered at us, and we stood frozen, not saying anything, before she skulked back away, grumbling about how annoying kids were these days.

"Okay," I whispered, "The book, then?"

=#=#=#=

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because the next bit I remember was Hermione shaking me like a maraca. It was strange, because I had the same dream of the woman in robes petting me like a dog again. I hoped this wasn't going to be a regular occurrence – maybe I could have dreams of the past and my memories could return. That clearly wasn't going to happen if this lady wasn't leaving me alone.

"Ew!" hissed Hermione, suddenly recoiling away from me and flapping her hands, "He drools when he sleeps!"

"I get that a lot…" I moaned, lifting my head from my arms. We were still in the library, and it was still around noon-time, but to me it felt like I had been gone for hours.

Hermione was glaring at me, and not Ron for a change, "You fell asleep."

"Sorry," I said, stifling a yawn.

"You fell asleep when I was _talking_ to you."

… Oops. Ron just smirked and didn't look sympathetic for me at all. We were perched back in the spot before we left, with Hermione next to me and Ron next to her. The library was mostly quiet but you could hear the shifting of books and whispers of other students.

"I'm just really tired," I said, trying to look remorseful for my sins. Hermione just pursed her lips, her expression still stony.

"And I'm just trying to help you get your memories back, and you have the nerve to fall asleep while I am explaining the process of the spell to you. I find that downright rude and insulting and maybe I shouldn't be helping you at all. Maybe you just want to live the rest of your life not knowing who you were before you came here and what your grand 'purpose' is-"

"Alright, _alright_," I said frantically, holding up my hands in defeat. I couldn't stand seeing Hermione mad at me, but at the same time, I didn't need a lecture to convince me I had done wrong, "I'm _sorry_, okay? I'm just tired. I think it's because of the time zone change."

She didn't seem impressed at my answer, but still bought it like a bar of chocolate, "Fine. Anyway, as I was saying, you'll need to think very hard about the things that remind you of the past. Don't stop thinking about them until I say you can, but by then, hopefully your memories would have flooded back to you." in front of her, the large book was open at a page littered with strange diagrams of wand movements and the weird ancient rune language that made my head spin.

"About that," I said, tearing my gaze away from the book, "Nico di Angelo. I recognise him."

"You do? What about him?"

I faltered at this point. It was really hard to imagine, but I knew this kid from somewhere. He was trustworthy, he had helped me… but I wasn't sure how. He still made me feel uneasy though, as if there was something weird or awkward about him. Like Mr Rochester from Jane Eyre.

"I don't remember," I spoke eventually, glancing upwards at the floating books. If my life were a book or story, I could just read it and find out. If only life were that simple. The brunette stared at me blankly, thinking too. Ron was poking at his split ends.

"Well, it doesn't matter I suppose – just keep your thoughts clear," said Hermione, drawing her wand from her pocket. It was a nice wand – simple yet delicate; a bit like the owner, actually.

"What should I do?" asked Ron, sitting upright in his seat like his superior officer had just walked by. Hermione flicked her head around, silent for a few moments before speaking.

"Just sit there."

"That's it? You want me to just sit here?"

"Well, unless _you_ want to try and cast this," she pointed at the ridiculously flamboyant hand movements and Ron suddenly looked as repulsed as when he saw Nico.

"No, _noooo_," he said, waving his hands frantically, "You're the best at spells. I'll just… sit here, then."

She whirled back around to me, "Now think."

I closed my eyes. Everything that had given me eerie sensations in my gut-slash-stomach flooded into my mind. Meeting Hermione, her concentrated face and my New York accent. The conversation with Dumbledore and the mention of quests. The colour orange and my apparent lack of ability to read or pay attention. Creepy Nico di Angelo. It all built up to this.

As I kept all of my faint memories in my mind, I could hear Hermione chanting away and her wand swishing in the air. If my memories did return, what would I be like? Would I be different? What if Ron and Hermione saw the real me and left me in the dust? Especially if I was some oddball hermit that had an obsession with orange things and focused faces.

"Okay," said Hermione slowly, "You can stop."

I cracked an eye open. And suddenly, everything came back to me. Who I was. Where I was from. How I got here.

Just kidding, it was nada.

"… So?" said Ron with anticipation, hands clenched on the desk. I shook my head.

"I remember what I had for breakfast this morning. That's about it."

Hermione looked heavily disappointed, peering at the book again, "Maybe I did something wrong. Should we try again?"

I shook my head again, "No. There's no point. I mean, think about it. Dumbledore said that once I have completed my 'purpose' I can return. I'm guessing that the only way I can get my memories back is if I complete my 'purpose' too."

Ron snorted, leaning his head in his hand, "'Could have said that earlier…" Hermione shrugged.

"Well, it was worth a go, even if it didn't yield any results. It's a lot easier to take memories than to return them," she glanced at her wristwatch and gasped, "Merlin's beard! We're going to be late for afternoon lessons if we don't hurry!"

She then proceeded to grab me and Ron by the arm and drag us out of the library. As we fast-walked, I couldn't help but wonder when that 'purpose' was going to show up. Maybe I was going to be stuck here longer than I thought.

=#=#=#=

I flunked at afternoon lessons.

That pretty much sums it up. I tried and failed to turn my water to wine in Transfiguration. I got beaten up multiple times in Defence Against the Dark Arts (by Lavender, for the gods' sake. _Lavender_). Even the non-magic lessons I couldn't grasp. C'mon, I mean, really: _Ghoul Studies_? Who needs to know about a bunch of dead guys?

I thought maybe it was the wand, probably broken, or the fact that I might be a Squid – sorry, _Squib_. It irritated me to no end that I was looking like a total loser. Teachers clicked their tongues, told me to study more, to pay attention in class. When Seamus mentioned I was from the prestigious and secretive 'Salem Wizard's Institute', most of the teachers (after donning unaware looks) suddenly had high expectations, which really didn't help when I got knocked back by a _Stupefy_ and toppled over the practice dummies.

When all that and evening meal was finally over, you can imagine I was totally knackered. I wished Hermione a good night before slumping towards the dorm room and washing and dressing. Harry's bed had never been so appealing.

"Night guys," I murmured, snuggling into the comfy covers. Ron was dressed in his pyjamas, sitting up and reading a magazine about some sport named Quidditch.

"You're going to bed already?" he asked, not even glancing up from the page and not sounding sorry at all. I rested my head on the pillow.

"Yeah. Time zones, you know?" I was very worried about tomorrow. If I couldn't pull some cool magic trick, people were bound to get suspicious. Seamus and Dean already had their doubts about me. The gag would be up if I couldn't do squat in lessons.

Dean was in his bed, looking curiously over at me, "I find it strange how none of us woke up when Harry left. And he didn't tell any of us he was going away for a while."

The other roommate, and the nicest of the lot, Neville, piped in, "How long will he be gone for anyway?" They looked expectantly at Ron and me.

"'Dunno," said Ron, as he stared harder into his magazine. It must have been pretty difficult to keep up the act. In the end, we'd told them that Harry and I were part of an exchange program, where he would go to Salem for a while and I would go to Hogwarts. It seemed the perfect excuse except the fact that we had no idea when he'd be coming back.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. The boys' chatting thinned as my mind wavered. With any luck, my first proper night at Hogwarts would be a pleasant one. No such luck.

In the dream, the area was like one big cloud. I could see just a few metres ahead of me, and the rest was just fog. As I walked, the fog didn't cease. I was walking in mysterious world with no beginning or end. It was cold too, like we were thousands of miles in the sky. Good thing I was wearing more than my boxers this time.

"Percy," said a voice, and I swerved round.

It was the woman again – she had come back to haunt me. The dream seemed clearer than last time, so I could pick out facial features – dark hair and eyes, a crestfallen smile and her robes seemed to drape around her like a river. I was enticed by her, unable to look away.

"I do not have much time," she spoke, delicacy, desperation and weakness lacing her words, "I have a gift for you. It is only temporary, but I believe it will help you through."

"Who am I? Where am I?!" but she didn't answer, holding out her hand. A glowing ball of white light appeared, floating like a balloon on her palm. It shivered before racing over to me and shooting straight through my heart. There was a burning sensation, like someone driving a hot stake into my chest, but when the pain was over I felt dizzy and disconcerted… and powerful.

"Wait!" I called, as the dream began to fade and the woman as well. Her image fuzzed like a failing computer screen, "At least tell me who you are!" She merely smiled, but it couldn't disguise the hurt she was suffering.

"I… am a goddess," then the dream shattered into nothing and I woke up to Ron poking me with a stick.

=#=#=#=

"Oi!" Ron hissed in my ear as my eyes snapped open, "Wake up! You're having a bloody nightmare!"

I shot up into a sitting position and accidentally banged my head against Ron. He recoiled, his wand flying away and him falling off of my bunk and clutching his head.

"Ow!" he whispered, glaring at me, "I wake you from a nightmare and I get a hurt head in return!"

I held a hand to my head too. The collision with Ron's huge melon had only made my headache worse. I reached for the side light, but of course, there was only one huge one that covered the entire room.

"Sorry," I mumbled, reaching out to grab Harry's wand, "What was the name of that spell? _Lumos_!" The tip of the wand ignited with a subtle and gentle light. I could see Ron sprawled out on the floor, tangled with one of my blankets that had fallen off during my episode of mad thrashing. Luckily, the other boys were more asleep than a napping kitten. The sky was still dark so I guessed it was early morning.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled, throwing the gold duvet back at me, "So you should be."

"I just had a weird dream," I said, glancing at Ron and offering him a hand up. He took it while I continued, "There was a woman who gave me a gift-"

I froze mid-sentence; my mouth dropping open like a brick was tied to my lower lip. I suddenly felt sweaty as realisation flooded into my soul. Ron cocked an eyebrow, before he, like me, caught on. We both gazed unbelievingly at the wand in my hand.

I had actually cast a spell. A _real_ spell. After a day of looking like a moron with no affinity for magic, the wand-slash-I had finally managed to do something.

"'I believe it will help you through'. That's what she said to me."

Ron wouldn't stop staring at Harry's wand, making doubly-sure he was totally awake, "Who said?"

"The woman in my dream. She said she'd give me a gift. I guess this-" I gestured to the wand in my hands, the glow brightening with my excitement, "-is it."

"But how can someone in your imagination just _give_ you magic?"

"I don't know. She also said…" I hesitated, before taking a deep breath, "She also said she was a goddess."

"What?!" Ron cried in disbelief. At that moment, Dean Thomas stirred, shifting in his bed. Ron and I exchanged worried looks before he scrambled back into his own, carefully tucking his wand under his pillow.

"We'll talk more in the morning. Say _Nox_ to stop the spell."

"_Nox_," I said firmly. The wand still glowed, "_Nox_." I tried again. The wand apparently was teasing because it just sat there like a potato and shined brighter.

"_Nox_, you stupid thing!" I said desperately, flicking it downwards like trying to extinguish a flame. Ron flipped over in his bed to face me, glaring.

"_Nox, Nox, Nox_!" Harry's wand was probably laughing now. I didn't find it so funny. Urgently my gaze panned to Ron, "Are you sure it's _Nox_?"

Then the wand went out, and we were left in total darkness with only the starlight beaming through the windows. Dean stopped making noises. Seamus and Neville were still in dreamland. Ron sighed in relief before the only thing I could hear was his soft breathing. I snuggled back into a comfy position, and then, fell asleep.

=#=#=#=

When I told Hermione my dream from last night, she looked so faint that Ron might have had to catch her. Wouldn't that have been convenient for him?

Nonetheless, Hermione didn't believe me. We were at the breakfast table, bright and early on a Saturday morning, when I relayed to her and Ron the contents of my dream in between scoffing some delicious toast. Their expressions were, at first, surprise and then shock, especially Hermione. She asked, as politely as she could, to prove to me that I had been given a 'gift' by a goddess. Ron didn't look so keen.

"It's not a very good idea," he said, but Hermione wasn't listening.

"The Levitation charm is the first spell taught at Hogwarts. The incantation is _Wingardium Leviosa_-"

Ron mumbled, "-Leh-vee- OH-sah, by the way…"

"-and the wand movement is a simple swish and flick." She demonstrated this with her finger in the air, as I copied.

She stared at me expectantly, but, for once, Ron and I were in the same boat.

"He speaks the truth, Herms," I said, trying also to convince the inconvincible, "I kept saying the _Nox_ charm but the wand didn't listen to me."

She pursed her lips, "I want to believe you, but I need proof. It's the easiest spell in the book."

I glanced at Ron for confirmation, who just nodded solemnly, drawing his own wand (in case he had to extinguish something) as I drew Harry's. I pointed it at the Tropicana-filled goblet just in front of me, and making the swish-flick movement and speaking clearly, "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The goblet rose in the air, just hovering a couple of inches from the table. I had successfully cast my very first charm, and it felt wicked. I grinned as Hermione gasped as Ron glared at it uncertainly, waiting for it to blow up.

"Wow," said the brunette, flabbergasted (which, by the way, is the coolest word ever), "You really _do_ have magic."

"Now put the goblet down before it spills on someone," input Ron quickly. He spoke too soon.

The goblet began to move on its own, without any prompt from me (I was as still as a statue for Zeus' sake). I stared in dreadfulness as the goblet wavered dubiously over at Ron, who pointed his wand threateningly at the cup.

"Percy..!" he said desperately.

"Stop!" I commanded, but the wand just laughed evilly (well, it would have it had a mouth. If it had a brain, it would freakin' listen to me already), splattering its contents all over Ron's lap. Not before long did the ginger boy smell like a fresh orange tree, but he didn't seem as pleased as I was about it.

His face had turned as sour as his personality. I shoved Harry's erratic wand back in my pocket and grabbed a handful of napkins. Hermione jumped up and was already on the job, pointing her own wand at Ron's mess (hahah. His mess. Sounds like a little child peeing himself or something), while he stared down with disgust.

"_Scourgify_!" she commanded, her wand obeying her, cleaning up the Tropicana and leaving Ron's robes clean as a newly-washed car. He beamed.

"Thanks Hermione," then he dropped his smile as his attention turned to a grinning me, "Thanks, _Percy_."

"It's Harry's wand," she spoke, sitting back down again and sipping a bit of pumpkin juice, "Because you are not the original owner, well, it doesn't 'like you'. The wand chooses the wizard."

"It doesn't like me?" I said, cocking an eyebrow at such a ridiculous accusation. How could a wand – an _inanimate object_ – not find me adorable? "Great, just great. I've got a faulty wand to take to lessons with me."

"You could get your own, but the shop's back in London."

I sighed. Guess I would have to just suck it up and be a man.

But really, this wand had some problems, I thought. It wasn't really comfortable to hold, the wood wasn't the nicest colour and it was too short for me. Harry could have it back. I'd trade it for Riptide any day.

"Riptide!" I yelled, suddenly bouncing up and looking like a class-A idiot. Students turned to stare at me, so before I could embarrass myself further, I sat down whispered.

"Riptide," I repeated, "I've actually remembered something."

"What's Riptide?"

"I-" but I couldn't answer them. I knew the name Riptide. It was the object of all cool for me, like Ron's wand to Ron and Hermione's wand to Hermione. I knew it was the source of my power, but I wasn't sure how.

When Hermione caught my confused face, she frowned, "You don't remember, do you?"

I shook my head, "… No." And I was so close to something – anything, of my past life. Mentally, I was beating myself up. What was Riptide?

Hermione stared into space, holding her hands together and deep in thought, "The name sounds familiar to me… I may need to do some research," she smiled at me, "At least now you can perform magic, even if it is a little… dodgy. Listen, I think we need to return to the library-"

Ron's face lit up, "Nico's book! It said something on the gods and stuff." Hermione clicked her fingers.

"Exactly."

I laughed, "You're excited about going to the library? That's a first."

Ron grinned, "And probably a last."

Hermione joined in, "We've only got lessons this morning, so I suggest after that we take a trip down. Sound like a plan?"

I stood up confidently, "Best plan yet."

=#=#=#=

With Harry's unreliable wand, I blew up the Potions classroom. The professor wasn't amused.

Unfortunately our happiness was short-lasting, since Snape proceeded to basically tell me how rubbish I was and then give me a big fat T on my work (which apparently stands for Troll – the worst mark). I wasn't too bothered about it though, giddy with excitement – I had found a clue to my previous life. Although it was something small to go on, if I could find out about the woman in my dreams (don't look at me like that. That's not what I meant) – the 'goddess' – then maybe more of me would be revealed. It was like one big crime-solving game.

The rest of the morning wasn't so bad. We had a class called Muggle Studies that I totally aced, since today's topic of study was 'how the ordinary Muggle travels around'. Apparently, wizards aren't familiar with the concept of cars, vans and jet planes. It was totally alien to them (well, except Hermione and a couple other Muggle-Borns and myself). Then we had Care of Magical Creatures, where we had to learn how to nurse a bunch of worm-things. Actually, that lesson was gross, but I survived.

Eventually, morning turned to noon, and we were back at the Great Hall stuffing ourselves silly with beef and mustard sandwiches, sharing stories. Well, Ron and Hermione did most of the sharing, since I couldn't remember my past. They had been on so many adventures with this Harry character – fighting ugly trolls in the girls' bathroom, discovering huge secret chambers by a toilet cubicle, even going back and forth in time to free beasts and war prisoners. The three of them were really close it made me yearn for my own set of friends that I knew existed but just didn't remember. It pained me that I couldn't remember.

The library seemed like a pale comparison to the places they visited, but still, it worked for us now. We were chatting away excitedly at the concept of gods existing as we headed in that direction.

"The Greek goddess of magic is Hecate," said Hermione as we strode down the bustling corridors, avoiding the little second-years, "Imagine if we were all descended from her."

"That'd be bloody crazy," said Ron, pushing some of his ginger hair back. Ron wasn't actually that bad a fellow, if you squinted. Sure, he still was a bit iffy with me, but after replacing his best friend that made total sense.

"If this lady can help me, I don't care if it's a crazy idea," I said, rounding the corner. In exactly the same place as before, Ron collided head-first into something scrawny.

"Oof!" he said, as he withdrew backwards, as did the scrawny kid with a little yelp. And then, things turned ugly.

Draco Malfoy's look of revulsion turned into a sneer. His bodyguards appeared magically by his side like they could teleport. Please, teleporting wasn't possible. They looked about as happy as a mountain ogre.

"Get out of the way, _Weasel_. You're stinking up the place," snapped Malfoy, with his friends laughing mockingly as they jabbed Ron with their fat fingers. Ron boiled with annoyance.

"Maybe you should get out of _my_ way, _midget_."

I had inspired Ron to say that? I was good.

Unfortunately, Malfoy didn't appreciate my genius retorts. He glared right up at Ron who was a good foot taller.

"You're just a Percy-wannabe, _Weasel_. You don't scare me."

"Oh," I began, flicking my hair like a prissy woman, "You know my name now? How charming."

Hermione had to stifle a laugh.

Malfoy's grey-eyed glower settled on me, "Oh, yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. I heard Potter's not here anymore. Did he run off from the Dark Lord like a wimp?"

Ron came to Harry's immediate defence, as a crowd was beginning to gather around us, "Least he's not a _daddy's boy_."

The blonde boy growled, "That's because he has _no_ daddy to turn to."

That was a low blow, I could tell, because Ron's face turned livid with anger. Hermione had to restrain him from beating him to pulp right then and there. Malfoy cackled, knowing he had won this time.

"Then again, _Weasel-face_, it's better having no parents than having _poor_ ones." Ron was writhing around, desperate to deck him in the face. Only Hermione could keep him calm, although now it was obvious she was struggling to keep him from breaking free. Now, I was feeling particularly riled up too, even if I knew nothing about Ron's family or Harry. Boldly, I stepped in front of the Slytherin midget, towering over like the Empire State Building over a little boutique.

"If you've got something to say to my friends, you'll have to go through me first."

Malfoy jeered again, his friends egging him on, "Okay then, _Dud Wizard_. Let's see how tough you really are."

"Bring it on," I challenged, clenching my fists. Instead of throwing a weak little sissy punch like I expected, he spoke.

"You and me in a wizard's duel, at eight o' clock tonight in the second Charms classroom. I was going to say bring a second, but then I remembered you'd probably pick _Weasel_, and he'd only bring you down quicker."

Before I could retort, and with a laugh, Draco and his cronies strode off with the crowd of nosy students parting ways for them. I appeared confident, and the pupils gave me lots of encouragement, but then I thought… I had to fight a wizard with thrice as much skill as me with a temperamental wand…

I was _so_ going to Tartarus.

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

To anyone who got an alert for this chapter to find the link broken, my apologies. I realised that I hadn't changed some things. Very embarrassing...

Your reviews/favourites/alerts are always appreciated! Thank you ever so much :D

~ GD

PS. Thanks to PearlSapphireFeather for always reviewing and generally being awesome. :D


	6. A Vague and Nastily Long Prophecy

EDIT: Changed everything that was inaccurate.

Hello people of the earth (and beyond); GD here incoming with a new chapter! My muse is definitely running out, which is pants. Still, I might take a short break, write something else to keep the flow going, but it'll not be a long wait (I hope)! Plus school has eaten my face so... yeah.

Btw, fanfiction trolled me. The whole reply-to-guests thing has been thrown out of the window. In the Moderate Reviews screen I can actually change the words, but when they're published, none of my edits come up. Sorry, guys.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy~

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

That night, Harry unsurprisingly had a dream. He passed it off as nothing as he was transported to a dimension where time and space didn't flow normally. In an area of clouds and fog, where there was no beginning and no end, Harry just floated around aimlessly until he bumped into something… or _someone_. It was the same woman that petted him in his previous dreams, with sinuous robes and dark hair and eyes. It was strange, because Harry could have sworn she wasn't there just two seconds ago, and now she was. A warning would have been nice.

Harry backed up, and the lady gently stroked his messy hair. It was soothing, though, so Harry said nothing as she did.

"My dear boy," she began, before suddenly recoiling backwards and clutching her head in pain, "Ugh, I must make this quick." Harry stared at her. She glowed faintly, like an almost-dead light bulb.

"You are doing well, but the other campers do not trust you. You must leave soon-" she flicked her head around like someone was coming, but Harry saw nothing. When she turned back, her face was desperate.

"Go on a quest – find out your purpose, and you can have your old life back. Keep practicing your magic, and use it well."

"Wait!" Harry called, but before she could respond, the woman burst into a supernova and he woke in his bed, shivering.

=#=#=#=

"Harry," said the male voice of Luth, who was peering over at him from his bunk. He tried to appear concerned, but ultimately failed, "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Harry gulped, sitting up in his bed. The room was dark except for the little desk lamp by Luth's bed. The little dancing flames were dormant and the outside world was still shrouded in darkness. The only noises were Lou's soft snoring and the low humming of the lamp.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, unsure as to what he just witnessed, "Fine. It was just a nightmare."

Luth himself wasn't actually in bed. He was in his pyjamas with a Greek spell book open on his lap.

"Haven't you gone to sleep?" Luth smiled weakly.

"I've tried, but I can't. Bit of an insomniac." That kinda' made Harry feel self-conscious. So Luth heard every noise he made while asleep? He hoped he didn't snore as much as Lou did.

"Still practicing?" Luth regarded him with a small smile again.

"Yeah." For a guy with Lou Ellen as a sister, he didn't talk much. Harry could sense that the conversation was over when Luth turned back to the book and flicked the page over. Instead of probing him further, the boy decided he would try to sleep again. And it worked.

=#=#=#=

After dining in the mess room (he had pancakes from breakfast – yum), Annabeth met Harry outside of the Big House, foot tapping the soft grass impatiently as she waited. She was in her usual Camp Half-Blood T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and her knife was strapped to her belt.

"Take your time," she said as he approached.

"Sorry," said Harry, "I had a weird dream last night and I lost sleep." He said it so casually Annabeth looked shocked.

"What? What kind of weird dream?" Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"Why do you need to know?"

The blonde looked offended, "Because demigods always have very strange dreams – see, another thing that could make you one of us. Anyway, dreams are the gateway to the past, future, and present. Percy-" she winced a little at his name, "Percy always had dreams that helped him on his quests. Maybe yours could do the same."

Harry snorted, "Doubt it."

Annabeth crossed her arms and just looked at him as he sighed.

"Alright, but I'm telling you, it was strange stuff." He relayed the dream to her, and she didn't look surprised for the most part except the very end.

"-then she said 'find your purpose', and-"

"Hold on," said Annabeth, "'Find your purpose'? What purpose?"

Harry shrugged, remembering the awkward scene at the amphitheatre yesterday evening. Juno had touched upon him doing something that 'treaded on the wrong toes'. Harry didn't like treading on toes, especially since accidentally stepping on Luth's.

Annabeth looked no better, eyes focused on the air above her.

"What else did she say?"

"'Find out your purpose and you can have your old life back. Keep practicing magic and use it well'. Then the dream finished."

The blonde girl nodded firmly.

"It sounds like a goddess to me. What did you say she looked like again?"

"Dark hair and eyes. Radiated power. I can't really explain it, to be honest." Annabeth nodded.

"That fits the description of your moth – sorry, Hecate – but it could easily be any other female god," she sagged her shoulders and shrugged, "We better go visit Rachel. She might have some answers for us. She _better_ have some answers for us."

=#=#=#=

When Annabeth had said 'the oracle', Harry was expecting an old, creaky and mystical room filled with crystal balls and fortune-telling cards. Prophecies were usually kinda' disheartening to hear, and the environment usually matched. But this was completely different.

The duo had trekked upwards to a cave tucked in amongst the hills. Harry was a little hesitant to enter, seeing the outside – the entire entrance was hidden with a long, purple curtain. Annabeth wasn't fazed – she just threw it open and waltzed inside, with Harry reluctantly following behind.

He felt like he was stepping into another world – the walls were brightly painted with rainbows and people and handprints and everything happy you could imagine. Multi-coloured bean bags were dotted around everywhere, as well as a brightly-decorated bed (almost rivalling Lou's in the Hecate cabin), streamers hanging from the ceiling and painting supplies tucked right into the corner. There was a functioning television with HD channels and just about every gaming console you could want.

"This is madness," said Harry, completely in awe. Annabeth just cocked an eyebrow at him.

"No; this is Rachel's room," she frowned, looking over, "Our last Oracle of Delphi lived in the attic of the Big House, but, er, it was too depressing for Rachel so she moved in here. Everyone about to journey on a quest comes to her before they go. She's probably still at school, though…"

Harry crept along to an easel, the stone walls seemingly glittering with colours. He inspected the work-in-progress – a lovely picture of a radiant goddess doing battle with a monster. It was terrifying, even though it wasn't finished.

Suddenly, from behind the easel, a girl with bright red hair jumped out, flinging her arms in the air and screaming, "ROAR!"

Harry must have flinched because the red-head screamed with laughter. Annabeth let out a little yelp, before shaking it off with a scowl.

"Rachel!" she chided, "Don't do that!"

Rachel the Oracle snickered, "I'm sorry. I had a prophecy you'd be coming up here, so I thought I'd scare you."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "I wasn't scared."

"I know; I prophesised that too. Name's Rachel Elizabeth Dare, nice to meet you, Harry Potter," she took a seat in a yellow bean bag, tucking some hair back into a bun. Her green eyes studied Harry with fascination, "I heard about the whole Hera-slash-Juno incident yesterday. It sounds kinda' exciting – best camp sing-a-long you've ever been too!"

"And hopefully the last one…" Harry muttered, as Annabeth too joined Rachel on the bean bags.

"Aren't you meant to be at school?"

Rachel's smirk widened, "Oh, Clarion? Please. I leave on weekends." She gestured for Harry to sit himself down. He picked a nice green one that was lovely and soft.

"So, my brain tells me you're here for a prophecy about all the jazz that's going on."

Annabeth nodded, "Yes."

"If you knew we were coming up here for that," input Harry, "Surely you know who I am and what my great 'purpose' is?" Rachel laughed.

"Nope! Not a winkle!" she shifted to the edge of the bean bag, still staring at Harry with odd enthrallment, "We've had campers forget memories before, but I don't think you're in the same class. I mean, you've got an accent. That means you're not from America. That means you're from abroad. And that means either the gods are thinking of moving house soon or something weird is going on."

"We've notice that," said Annabeth, crossing her arms impatiently, "We're about to go questing for Harry's memories and Percy, and we could really do with some guidance."

Rachel turned to Annabeth, leaning back on the chair, "I know, I know, but unfortunately I can't just _make_ a prophecy happen. If I could do that, you'd be off by now. Only Delphi can conjure up some wisdom." She tapped her head with her finger and nodded knowledgably. Harry fidgeted on the bean bag.

"… Could you tell Delphi to hurry up then?"

Rachel shook her head.

"Nope. Prophecies come when I least expect it."

They sat and waited for a few moments. Rachel suddenly gasped and Harry shot up from his chair.

"A prophecy?!"

"No," said Rachel, staring into space, "I've just had such a great idea about my new painting! It needs to have more action-"

Harry was about to sit down again when Rachel, as suddenly as she gasped, doubled-over and her upper-body flopped uselessly on the bean bag. Annabeth widened her eyes, hopping up and looking frantic.

"_This_ is a prophecy," she said, with a little concern, as Rachel sat up again. She wasn't her bubbly self, though – instead, her eyes lolled backwards (but she was clearly staring at Harry) and a creepy green smoke emitted from her mouth as she spoke. The voice was a mix of hers and something raspier.

"_You shall go up north, to a land of pine,_

_to meet a teller with a tongue of rhyme._

_Where sorcery is powerful and memories ignite;_

_mired by misfortune during your flight;_

_With sad words and friends, can you fly a safe way_

_and journey abroad to the country of grey._

_By meeting lost ones as well as old friends_

_can you see the praise of foes in the end._

_With help and assistance a Roman will guide,_

_but only when wand and sword collide."_

Rachel flopped uselessly onto the bean bag again, before jumping up and shaking. Her frantic gaze was normal again, and she blinked.

"Euch," the girl shuddered and crossed her arms over, "That was nastily long."

Harry didn't know what to say. First of all, how the heck was he supposed to remember a prophecy that long? He didn't even have the chance to grab a quill and parchment.

Second of all… the entire prophecy confused him. Where the heck was the land of pine and the country of grey? What sad words and friends was it on about? Who was the Roman they got help from? He looked dumb-struck at Annabeth who had a large frown etched onto her tanned features.

"Long, but I suppose the longer the better."

"No," Harry corrected, "The longer, the _vaguer_. I don't even remember half of it, for a start-"

Annabeth waved it off, "I remember it already; don't worry."

Harry didn't comment, but he was glad that she did; although that still didn't help telling him what his 'purpose' was, or where precisely he was meant to go for answers. Chiron had said that coming here would shed some light, but the bespectacled boy could swear this had only just plunged him deeper into the shadows.

"'_The land of pine_'," Annabeth repeated, stroking her chin wisely, "Where are there loads of pine trees?" Rachel shrugged and looked just as confused as they both were.

"I don't know," she said, turning to Harry, "Honestly, half the things I spout to campers make no sense until the quest is complete. But my guess is you should head up north."

"As soon as Chiron approves of the quest," Rachel's green eyes widened.

"You mean he hasn't approved?"

Harry stepped in, "Well, the campers don't trust me anyway. We'd better get his approval before we do anything else."

=#=#=#=

Chiron was blank-faced when Annabeth relayed the prophecy to him. They were standing on top of the hill, in front of the Big House, overlooking the stretch of fields. The afternoon sun was high in the sky, basking the camp in glorious rays of sunshine. Too bad the atmosphere didn't quite match the tone.

"I see…" his front hooves shifted nervously on the ground as he stared out at the campers happily lazing about near the cabins. He said nothing for almost two minutes, and Harry was beginning to get worried.

After the longest silence, Harry didn't find his thoughts any clearer on the subject. After leaving Rachel's attic, Annabeth had kindly written the entire prophecy down on paper. He just glared at it, hoping that suddenly it would make sense. It didn't.

"A quest must be on order," said Chiron finally. Harry could have told him that himself.

Annabeth piped in, "The prophecy states that we might meet lost ones during the quest. I think that might include Percy."

Chiron brushed his body, still looking out at the rest of the camp.

"It is, however, plural. 'Lost _ones'_. None of the other campers have been missing though…"

"Yeah…" Silence again.

"By the way, Harry," said Chiron suddenly, which startled him, "Lou and Luth have gone on a quest. Unfortunately you were with Rachel when they left, but Lou asked me to let you know and say her goodbyes."

Harry blinked. Now that he mentioned it, he remembered Lou mentioning that she was going on a quest soon. But he didn't think she was leaving the next morning, and he thought she'd at least have the courtesy to tell him in person. Chiron smiled sympathetically at Harry's reaction.

"It was very last minute – they need to find one of your half-brothers named Alabaster, who has been on the run for a while. They'll be fine, I should think. Lou and Luth are very capable."

Harry nodded – it was a good thing he was going away on his own quest, otherwise he'd be left in an empty cabin to sleep in.

"Lou said she might be able to contact you via Iris-message to see how you're doing." Annabeth laughed.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you about Iris-message later. So, is our quest approved?"

Chiron turned serious again, regarding both Harry and Annabeth with worry.

"I have no choice but to let you go, especially you, Harry," his frown deepened, "Unfortunately, well, the campers aren't too happy about your 'hiding something'."

Harry growled, "I'm not hiding anything!"

"I know that, but the campers don't. I hear odd comments about how they may be planning to kick you from camp." Annabeth looked horrified, glancing back from Chiron to Harry.

"But you're camp director! Can't you stop them?"

Chiron sighed, "I have been already. Some have approached about how they don't like you being here. I'm not sure I can keep them convinced for long, and to be honest, with so many campers out there-"

"Thank you, Chiron – say no more. Let's go, Harry."

Annabeth sprinted down the field, her curly blonde hair flying behind. Harry nodded politely to Chiron before following after her. The campers that they passed gave them – well, mostly him – dirty looks of distrust. It unsettled him completely and he was very glad to be going soon, although the atmosphere beforehand had been pleasant.

Annabeth made her way into the U-shape, beckoning Harry to follow. He thought at first that she was going to her cabin, but instead, she strode to the end of the line, knocking on the grandest of cabins right in the middle.

The girl with the black cropped hair from yesterday opened the door, with a grin, "Oh, hi Annabeth! Luna and I were just about to look for you."

Luna popped out from behind with a weird grin, mostly regarding Harry. He gulped – yesterday, when he had encountered her with the other Hunters of Artemis, Harry felt the strangest tugging sensation in his gut. The blonde hair, large eyes and her whole presence made his legs turn to jelly. Not a good jelly (if that exists) – he recognised her, but not enough to trigger any memories.

He wondered if she recognised him at all – that would have got them somewhere.

Annabeth looked at Thalia grimly, "What about?"

"Nothing particular. We wanted to comfort you."

"Yes," agreed Luna. She was decked out with Hunter of Artemis gear – bows and swords and everything, "Losing your boyfriend can be pretty hard. I don't know what it's like but it must be difficult."

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, "Right, well, thanks, but I'm fine. I was about to ask if you wanted to come on the quest with us. We're going to find Percy and his memories."

Thalia was shocked, before she frowned, "Sorry. Luna was recruited into the Hunters of Artemis yesterday-" This made Harry flinch slightly. Why did he think that was an awfully bad idea?

Annabeth was equally confused, "Really? Haven't you been claimed?"

Luna smiled as brightly as the sun shined, "Nope! I've been on the run from monsters my whole life, and no god or goddess has claimed me for their own. That's fine – I get to visit lots of different places by being a Hunter."

The floor suddenly became interesting to Harry. He didn't want to say that he recognised this girl nor how bad it was to become a Hunter. He found out yesterday that all of the Hunters became immortal and served Artemis until they died in battle. He also found out they were sworn off boys (no wonder they shot him daggers yesterday).

"I have to train Luna, you see," said Thalia with a concerned smile, "Otherwise I would join you. I'm sorry, Annabeth."

"It's fine," she said immediately, although Harry could tell it certainly wasn't fine. Now she'd have to find someone else to replace her. Thalia patted her on the shoulder.

"Don't worry – you're the best in the Percy-finding business. When you find him, punch him in the arm for me, okay?" Annabeth couldn't help but grin.

"Of course," she said, as Thalia and Luna shut the cabin door behind them and made their way to the shooting range. Luna was fiddling with her bow now, and boy, did Harry feel sorry for Thalia.

Annabeth crossed her arms, showing her annoyance, "Great. We need a third person on the quest or it's doomed."

"Positive thinking, right there," said Harry sarcastically.

"Although the prophecy does say that we'll be flying, and Thalia hates flying so I guess that's good… Actually, that reminds me…" Annabeth suddenly perked up again, "I think… Yeah, let's go ask them."

"Who?"

Annabeth began a jog back up the middle of the U-shape, "Leo and Piper. They'll come with us."

=#=#=#=

The two of them were ridiculously excited to being going on a quest again. Leo had practically screamed with delight. Piper was much more controlled, although she couldn't help but grin. They hadn't been on one, apparently, since the quest to stop Gaia from swallowing the demigods. Harry hadn't been too keen to ask.

Leo had taken them to a bunker in the middle of the woods, where he stored, to Harry's great surprise, a huge bronze ship that was decked head-to-toe with weapons and defences.

The boy threw his arms out and stood proudly as he showed Harry around the _Argo II_.

"Built it myself," he said. When Piper shot him a look, he added, "Er, _designed_ it myself. Built it with buttloads of help."

Piper sighed, "Really, Leo? '_Buttoads'_?"

He pouted, "Hey, I worked my backside off for this baby; I deserve to say it." The hull of the ship was a sleek and sturdy design with the wheel of the ship right at the front, surrounded by a multitude of buttons and control sticks. Stairs to below decks were underneath an elevated area at the back of the ship and the mast right in the middle held the sails, although they weren't drawn right now. At the very tip was fastened a bronze dragon head, with the eyes occasionally growing a fierce red.

Annabeth, who just ignored most of their bickering, nodded firmly, "The _Argo II_ was really useful in our quest to find Percy before – think it's up to the challenge again?"

Leo scoffed, "'_Think'_ so? I _know_ so. She's totally up for another adventure into madness. What do you think, Festus?"

Suddenly, the dragon-head whirred to life, spitting smoke from its nostrils. This was a positive thing, apparently.

"See? This baby is ready to fly."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, finally inputting his say, "Did you just say _fly_?" Leo nodded, patting the side with glee.

"Yep, she flies. I'm good like that."

Piper looked less enthusiastic, "I'll believe you when she sets in the air again," she said, although there was the jokey hint to her voice, "This ship hasn't set foot in the outside world since the Great Prophecy."

Leo waved it off, "I know, I know, but I've taken good care of her since then. Couldn't leave Festus to rot, could I?" He skipped to the wheel of the ship and mashed some buttons, "Okay, I'm going to get her in the air. If you need anything before we go, grab it now and then we can set off."

Piper's hand went to her belt, "I think I'm okay. Katoptris is here."

"I need to take my laptop," said Annabeth, making her way to the ladder, "And Harry, I need you to come with me too."

He blinked, "Er, okay." He followed Annabeth off of the _Argo II _as the whole thing shuddered into motion. When he touched the ground again, Harry caught up with Annabeth, "What did you need me for?"

"You need a weapon. It'd be suicidal if you went on a quest without something to defend yourself."

He frowned, "What about Leo? He hasn't got anything."

She shrugged it off as the two of them entered into the forest again, the light almost blinding them, "He's got his fire."

"What?"

"Leo can control fire. Now, c'mon, there's no time to talk. I think I know what weapon to give you."

=#=#=#=

It was only when they completely missed the weapons storage room and made their way back to the U-shape when Harry realised what weapon she meant.

"You can't; it wouldn't feel right," he protested, trying to convince her. She shook her head.

"Riptide – also called by its Greek name, Anaklusmos – is the best sword there is. I know it belongs to Percy, but if he's wherever without it, I don't think he can-…" she faltered, biting her tongue and suddenly regretting opening her mouth, "Look, it's light and about the right size for you."

"I don't even know how to swordfight!" He couldn't imagine what Riptide looked like – perhaps a bulky golden sword with a hilt bigger than Harry himself. The thought of him lugging it around, failing to slaughter the monsters after him was the least pleasant image he'd had in days.

"Well, then, you'll need the greatest sword we have, then." They reached Poseidon's cabin and Annabeth entered without another word. Tyson was there, sitting on one of the comfy chairs and making googly-eyes – well, _a_ googly-eye – at a girl with a bird for a body and stringy red hair. Harry hesitated as Tyson looked at them with sadness.

"Hello Annabeth, Harry," he said. Tyson had apologised to Harry for dragging him out of bed before; he admitted to being scared about Percy's disappearance. Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the fellow. His harpy companion, however, freaked him out. Just a little.

"_With help and assistance a Roman will guide, but only when wand and sword collide,"_ Ella repeated, twitching occasionally. Annabeth sighed, striding to Percy's bed and pulling out from underneath the pillow… the pen?

"Don't go spreading that around, Ella, okay?" she said with a smile, nodding at Tyson, "We'll hopefully see you soon."

"Bring brother back," Tyson whimpered, lower-lip trembling slightly like he was about to cry. Annabeth smiles more this time, with confidence.

"Don't worry. I'm not returning without him," And with that, Harry and Annabeth left the cabin. She handed him the pen – it was sleek, a bronze colour, and resembled those Parker fountain pens you saw in posh shops. The very same one Harry had found underneath the pillow on his first night at Camp Half-Blood.

"This is his sword." She handed the pen to Harry. She made it sound so grand and prestigious, but Harry couldn't help but just stare at her with a mixture of disbelief and ridicule.

"This is a pen. This is a _pen_."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, "Uncap it and you'll see otherwise. Now, I'm going to pop to my cabin to grab my laptop. If you have anything at yours, you should get it before we go. I'll meet you there." Without another word, she sprinted off back to the Athena cabin. Harry stood there, just gazing with incredulity at the stationary in his hands.

"This has to be some sort of sick joke…" he muttered, casually clicking the top. With a small squeal, he almost dropped it in shock as the pen sprung into a robust bronze sword; the hilt nestled in his sweaty hands.

He gulped, just staring. Was this seriously happening to him?

Nonetheless, Harry gave it a swing. It felt very unnatural to him – he suspected he was used to lighter objects to do combat with, although he wasn't too sure what kinds of objects. The sword reflected off of the afternoon sun as he rotated his wrist and jabbed the air.

Okay, Riptide was cool, he had to admit. Percy had good taste. Before he could get too comfortable with the sword, Harry 'capped' the sword again and tucked it into his pocket. With him having no personal belongings to grab, he ran towards the _Argo II_.

=#=#=#=

Chiron had wished them luck before the ship – which was airborne when Harry got there (and he almost dropped his jaw in disbelief) – took off into the sky. Harry poked his head over the edge as the ship began to leave Camp Half-Blood. The cabins were like little squares and the strawberry fields seemed miniscule in comparison to before. The campers themselves turned to stare upwards, shielding their eyes from the sun. Harry wanted to wave, scream '_see ya', wouldn't wanna' be ya'!_' but he figured that was a little mean. If someone had waltzed right into camp with no memories and then a god told them they had hidden plans of evilness, well, he'd be a lot less trusting too.

Leo was at the wheel of the ship, casually whistling the tune to _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. He was throwing the wheel left and right like it was going out of style, and pounding on random buttons on the control panels. Harry didn't pay it much attention since Leo seemed to be in his own little world.

Annabeth was leaning against the mast, which had the sails drawn, talking to Piper about the situation.

"Grover said something was blocking his empathy link, so, so far, the prophecy is the only thing that's keeping us going," her expression hardened a little, and she looked down. For the first down, she dropped her confidence and looked seriously depressed about it all. Piper just smiled encouragingly.

"Don't worry; Percy's a smart guy. He can handle himself."

"You're right, of course," she said, standing a little more upright, "It's just… why is it always him?"

Harry's memory fuzzed uncertainly. For some reason, he found himself thinking of the same thing: _Why me?_

Piper shrugged, but continued to smile, "He's a powerful person, Annabeth. I guess the gods expect a lot from him."

"Ugh, you'd think they could leave him alone for a while," she covered her mouth with surprise, looking up worriedly at the sky, "Er, sorry. No offence."

It might have been Harry's imagination but he could swear the sky rumbled at her comment. Still, Annabeth sighed, grabbing the written prophecy from her pocket and opening it up. Piper pushed back some of her choppy brown hair.

"Yeah, by the way, Annabeth: isn't the ideal number of demigods for quests three?" She looked especially dubious over at Harry, who felt slightly offended. Annabeth glimpsed upwards before she was back reading the prophecy.

"I forgot to say, Leo, Piper," she said, as Harry came forward, "Harry believes he isn't a son of Hecate."

Leo stopped whistling, peering over the wheel, "But he was claimed!"

"I _know_ I was claimed," said Harry, "But she's not my mum, she just _can't_ be. I've got mortal parents walking this planet somewhere."

"Besides," said Annabeth, grey eyes still focused on the paper in her hands, "If Harry is right about him not being a son of Hecate then technically we only have three demigods going on a quest." Piper looked impressed, but she still frowned.

"And if he's wrong?" No-one replied. Piper shifted uncomfortably, and tried to cover the comment up.

"It _is_ strange that you weren't claimed when you were younger. Isn't the age that demigods have to be claimed by thirteen?" When Annabeth nodded wordlessly, Piper continued, "Although I suppose Leo and I weren't claimed until we were fifteen. Sometimes it happens when something big is coming up."

"Not helping," Harry said, with a lament of frustration, "We don't even know where we're going."

"I've set the ship northwards, but I kinda' need an exact location if we're to get anywhere exciting."

"'_You shall go up north, to a land of pine'_. We need to know where there are pine trees," Annabeth opened her backpack and pulled out her laptop. It was shiny, almost like a Mac, except with a little triangle symbol carved in the back. She flicked the on switch and turned as silent as a mouse.

Piper carefully pried the prophecy from her hands and read it to herself, "'_To meet a teller with a tongue of rhyme_'. Someone who rhymes? That's not very helpful. We could spend ages looking for them."

At the wheel, Leo shrugged, "Nah. I mean, we always just _coincidentally_ like to run into prophecy people, don't we? It shouldn't take too long to find them. Especially if all they can do is spout Shakespeare and Doctor Seuss all day."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch," said Annabeth gravely, looking up from her laptop with doubt, "The land of pine trees. It's Maine."

"What?" said Piper.

The blonde girl peered at the screen again as Harry and Piper gathered behind her. She had the Wikipedia article of said state up, "Maine is nicknamed 'the pine tree state', and it's north from Long Island. That's got to be where we have to go," she shut her laptop and turned to Leo, "Set course for Maine. I don't know where we go after that, but I guess we'll have to find out when we get there."

"Winging it," said Harry casually. He was familiar with the concept of 'winging it' before.

Leo grinned mischievously, "Maine it is. Let's get going, Festus!" The dragon-head grunted and the ship geared itself into full motion, and soon, before Harry knew it, the four of them were speeding towards the land of pine.

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Aaaah, it's actually becoming so exciting now! I've got the plot to the end (with bits and bobs in missing inbetween), but yeah, hopefully I'll finish something for a change. Also, apologies for the prophecy. It's one of the reasons this chapter took so long - prophecies are difficult to write. It's not as nearly as good as Rick's are, but hey, I'm still pleased. :)

Thank you so much for the reviews, favourites, alerts, and author favourites! I seriously and utterly appreciate them! Plus, I hit fifty reviews! That's a huge achievement for me, so thank you ever so much! :D

Keep it cool,

~ GD


	7. Harry Indirectly Breaks the School

GreenWithAwesome/ GD here, bringing back madness in fanfiction form! My updates will be slower because I have other things to concentrate on (unfortunately...).

I don't put spoilers in my author's notes. I check every single one and they are safe to read. Just saying.

Anyway, I was really looking forward to typing this chapter. Drama ensues! Enjoy!

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

So, it was me versus Draco the midget in a duel of curses, catchphrases ("My father _will_ hear about this!") and cool battle poses. I looked totally awesome and confident about the challenge until the crowd dispersed. Then I whimpered like a lost puppy.

"I have to _duel_ that guy?!" I cried, swivelling around to Hermione and Ron who both donned worried expressions, "To_night_?!"

"This is bad," Ron said – who, once the crowd had left, immediately dropped his 'I got this' face to pure misery, "_Very_ bad."

"Draco is a potent dueller," said Hermione, who hurried us to a corner to discuss the situation in whispers, "Harry was against him in our second year."

"And did he win?"

Ron tilted his head, "Almost."

"What do you mean, '_almost'_?"

"He kinda' started speaking snake in between. But anyway, this is really bad."

I didn't even want to know about the whole 'speaking snake' thing. Once you've been around Hogwarts for a day, nothing seems to surprise you anymore.

"I can see that. What am I going to do? I can't exactly fight him; not with this wand!" I pulled out Harry's stick of death from my cloak pocket and brandished it like a dirty dishcloth. This wand was a trickster – it was going to mess up the duel for me. Draco would laugh and call me a Dud Wizard forever.

Hermione heaved a sigh, "You're going to have to try, Percy. Wizard duels are taken very seriously."

"Is it like cage-fighting or something?"

"What's cage-fighting?"

Hermione immediately shook her head, reviled by the idea, "No, definitely not. We magical folk actually have class."

I snorted, "I think Harry's wand missed _that_ memo…"

"You do realise how important this is, right? This affects your reputation, status, relationship with others. If you win, you'll be showered with praise, you could network with everyone, be flocked by endless streams of girls-" Ron's ears went a little pink when he realised what he said, "Anyway, you're the _new guy_, Percy. No-one outside of our lessons really knows your abilities in magical combat. If you can prove yourself, and beat that little snot Draco Malfoy, you'll be classed as a hero."

For once, Ron had said something smart. Although doubtful of the 'flocked by endless streams of girls' part – actually, take that back; Lavender would be at my beck and call. Anyway, although I didn't particularly want to go head-to-head with a wizard of higher skill with a batty wand, I figured there was no choice. Being mocked as a coward didn't tease my appetite as much as being a hero did. Not to mention I had to stand up for Ron and Hermione.

Besides that, being called a hero was strangely… nostalgic.

"Yeah, a hero…" I said, racking my brain for any lost memories trying to resurface, "Okay. I guess we'll have to do this. You guys better teach me something before tonight or I'm a dead man."

"Wait," said Hermione, looking in the direction of the library, "What about the book?"

Ron instantly shook his head, "No way, Hermione. This is more important. If we don't teach Percy the spells to defend himself and stuff, Gryffindor will be the laughing stock for weeks – especially a guy from the high-and-mighty Salem Wizard's Institute."

"Ron," she hissed, "Salem Wizard's Institute doesn't even _exist_. And it would happen to be _your_ fault about that."

"I know," he spoke desperately, glancing around to see if anyone was eavesdropping, "But it affects you too, you know."

Hermione didn't look impressed, putting a sport in front of my memories and the odd god-situation. She only looked at me expectantly, crossing her arms and tapping her foot with impatience.

"Percy has the final call."

I thought about this for a second. I was about to go into a sport I had never played, use broken equipment and limited knowledge and probably get my butt handed to me on a nice, shiny platter. Learning something defensive wasn't going to win me any awards in the memories department, but hey, I did want a good reputation amongst my peers and, most of all, for that midget Malfoy to leave my friends alone. The decision wasn't difficult.

"My memories can wait," with the wand safely (or is that too much to ask for?) back in my pocket, I grinned with confidence at the two housemates in front of me, "The book isn't going anywhere. Teach me what you know."

Hermione didn't seem pleased at my choice.

=#=#=#=

We briskly passed the library on our way to a room – a room so secret, you can't actually see the doors in.

That's what Ron said at least. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, that's not really an accurate description," she turned to me while tackling the stairs, "The Room of Requirement only appears when the seeker, well, _requires_ it. It changes and is always equipped depending on the seeker's needs, no matter how flamboyant they may be," something told me she had done this before, "So, if we need a training room, a training room will appear."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Hermione cut in before I could start.

"Yes, if you needed the toilet, a toilet would appear," That wasn't what I was going to ask, but I went along with it anyway, "To find the room, you have to pass the wall three times and wish in your head exactly what you need."

That made so much more sense. If there was no obvious door how the heck were you supposed to get in?

We must have climbed hundreds of flights of stairs (or just seven) to reach the seventh floor of Hogwarts, usually abandoned save the odd classroom or secret gossip meeting (which, by the way – we ran into Lavender muttering to Parvati Patil. When she saw me, I had to speed-walk all the way down the corridor before she called my name). The general feeling of the floor was eerie and unlikeable.

Then we approached an empty corridor after a couple of confusing twists and turns. Ron's face brightened when he saw a tapestry depicting trolls dancing to ballet.

"You're kidding, right?" I said, staring at it incredulously. To be honest, it looked like an opera of nightmares. Ron laughed.

"Nah, that's not it. It just means it's the wall opposite." I whirled around. The wall was a bare as a bone.

"There's a room behind here?" I knocked friskily on the wall. It definitely wasn't hollow by the colour of my knuckles.

"No, it isn't there right now. You have to wish for it in your mind, and you've got to be specific."

I sighed, closing my eyes. If I could honestly just wish for a room like this all the time I'd have saved myself a lot of trouble. _Hey, can I get a room full of Xbox 360s?_ I'd settle for that any day.

But instead I concentrated, beginning my stride back and forth along the corridor. I really could have done with a room to help me learn how to kick Draco butt. A nice, convenient room with lots of squishy cushions in case I accidentally _Stupefy_'d Ron. And maybe an extra wand for-

"Percy." I cracked an eye open. Apparently, the room had appeared ages ago and the two of them were standing halfway through a humongous and mediaeval-looking door, right where the wall was just a few seconds ago. They must have been so precise and quick about it that my thoughts didn't even register. I sagged my shoulders, following them in.

"Thanks for that," I said sarcastically, stepping into the Room of Requirement. It was exactly how I pictured it: a large, spacious room with plain walls and plenty of practice dummies, mirrors and cushions to satisfy even the pickiest of needs. Hades, there was enough for an entire army.

Hermione smiled warmly, "I have many fond memories of this room," she said, spinning around a little with a grin, with her bushy hair twirling behind her, "I conjured my first Patronus here."

"What?"

"Patronus. Oh, it's a spell. If we have time, we'll teach you it. Which one should we go through first?"

=#=#=#=

We spent the whole morning and afternoon (missing lunch, to Ron's disappointment) slapping dummies with spells, with even the simplest of hexes to the meanest of curses (except for some that Hermione deemed 'unforgivable'. We weren't _that_ desperate). By the end of the first hour, it looked like we had brutally mutilated our practice manikin with an axe when all we had done was flip it into the air a couple of times. And we weren't even finished.

It didn't help that Harry's wand wanted to be a free wand.

Hermione said that my spell technique was spot on, after a couple of tries waving my fingers around. She also said that my pronunciation of the incantations were perfect (apparently, better than Ron's when he had first tried spellwork, much to his displeasure). The only thing that let me down was the fact that this piece of holly refused to co-operate. When using Stupefy, I had accidentally set Hermione's bag on fire. In my attempt to fix said fire (_Aguamenti_, right?), I had only caused all of her books to spill out onto the floor and her quill's feathers to explode ("My favourite quill!" she had gasped, cradling what looked like the leftovers of a blown-up chicken), and yet the bag was still flaming away, eating Hermione's pencil case and searing through her Herbology homework. I just left it to Ron after that.

I cast the protective charm as Ron shot another _Petrificus Totalus_. A magical shield enveloped me and the curse bounced of harmlessly and hit the cushions at the side. Ron lowered his wand.

"Better," he said, as Hermione nodded next to him. She walked over to inspect Harry's wand.

"It's still a little, well, _unpredictable, _but you're improving slowly and that's better than nothing."

I nodded. Eleven inches long, Harry's wand snuggled nicely into my rough palms. It was a little too delicate for me, as was this this whole wand business, but as long as I didn't end up with a black eye, I was up for whatever it could throw. Personally, throwing around something heavier, like a sword, sounded much more natural.

Hermione held up her fingers, counting them off as she went along, "So, that's _Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, Flipendo, Expelliarmus, Impedimenta_… Those are some of the basic offence spells. There are plenty others, but really, those are the best offensive ones. Plus _Protego_ and _Expecto Patronum_, which are defensive."

I glanced at the wand again. It seemed as though the thing was 'warming up' to me, since as the day went on, my spells became more successful. I hadn't broken any mirrors in six hexes! Even better, the Patronus charm was difficult to cast yet I still managed without too much damage to Hermione's bag.

She tugged up her cardigan sleeve and checked her watch, "It's quarter-to-six now; we should be making our way to the Great Hall for dinner."

"Yeah, we didn't even have lunch," Ron said, flopping down onto a cushion, "And I'm starving."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You're _always_ starving…"

"Yeah, well, my sweet supply has run low. I need to grab some more."

Hermione swung her head up, totally startled, "Oh, heavens! I completely forgot about the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow! How could I?!"

Grinning, I said, "Don't worry, Herms. I forgot too."

She just glared at me. And then at Ron.

"Why didn't you remind me?"

Ron threw his arms in the air, "Because I forgot too!"

I could only blame my appearance and Harry's disappearance. To be honest, a trip to Hogs-something didn't seem appropriate at the time, and it had taken up most of yesterday to wrap their heads (and mine) around the situation. I smiled sheepishly at the two of them.

"Sorry – I suppose I'm indirectly to blame," I pocketed Harry's wand, "Where's Hogs-meep, anyway?"

"Hogsmeade," Hermione offered, "It's the local wizarding village; full of shops and cafés. Third-years and above are allowed to go on designated weekends – well, those with permission from parents or guardians."

I groaned at the last part. Hogsmeade sounded like a pretty cool place except for the fact that I needed consent from people I had forgotten the name of to go. I hadn't been anywhere but the Hogwarts grounds for two days and it would have been nice to take a look outside. I hadn't ever been to Scotland before in my life (well, not that I believed, anyway).

Hermione smiled sympathetically, "I'm sure Professor McGonagall would understand the situation, She'd let you come with us."

Professor McGonagall was the Gryffindor Head of House, and also the teacher I had for Transfiguration. She was strict and firm, but it was obvious that she cared about her students, even when my goblet was still a goblet at the end of the lesson.

Ron frowned, "She didn't let Harry go during third-year."

"Well, this is different. You'll be able to go."

=#=#=#=

"You'll not be able to go."

My bright and peppy smiled just dimmed like the sun had hidden itself from view and a stormy rain cloud had dumped its contents over my head.

"But Mrs – Sorry, Professor, I didn't even know that Hogsmeade trips were part of, uh, my exchange. I'm going to be left on my own in the common room. By myself. Alone."

Professor McGonagall sighed, twirling the pen in her hands slowly. The three of us – Hermione, Ron and I – stood at her desk in the Transfiguration classroom, while she sat upright and stared at us with disapproval. Trying to convince someone as stubborn as her was like trying to move a house with toothpicks.

"I'm sorry, but the rules are final. No permission slip means you cannot go on the trip," she laughed dryly, "Oh, look, that rhymes: No slip, no trip."

I _really_ didn't appreciate her humour.

Ron's stomach rumbled, but everyone ignored it.

Hermione patted me on the back, always on the ball for when I felt annoyed, "Don't worry, Percy; the common room isn't so bad. You'll have plenty of time to practice your charmwork."

"Yeah," added Ron, "We'll take pictures if you like." Hermione dug her heel into his foot; Ron yelped slightly and recoiled away as McGonagall merely smiled.

"I would very much love to sign myself, but alas, I cannot. Shame there isn't any other way to Hogsmeade. Although, if I caught you, I wouldn't be so nice." She suddenly glanced at Ron with a long, hard stare. He just blinked, "Anyway, I believe Mr Weasley sounds rather famished. Perhaps a trip to the Great Hall is in order?"

"Yeah," I grunted, turning around, "Thanks anyway, Prof. See you later." I took my leave, annoyed that I couldn't join my friends on a weekend out. When we finally left the classroom, Ron was as giddy as a goat and Hermione looked disappointed, but apparently not for the same reason as I was.

"Honestly, a teacher encouraging rebellious behaviour…" she muttered, fiddling with her robes. Ron just grinned.

"Hey, you know it's a good idea. We need a good break. Besides, if Percy loses tomorrow, we can drink ourselves in pity." Hermione just glowered at him.

"What are you guys on about?"

"We'll explain on the way to the Great Hall. C'mon, I'm hungry!"

=#=#=#=

So apparently wizards aren't exempt from becoming invisible, too.

The very boy I had replaced, Harry Potter, just so happened to have a cloak of invisibility that masked him too well against human eyes. He had owned this gift since Christmas of his first-year, and apparently liked to take frequent night-time strolls or trips to Hogsmeade when he wasn't allowed to go himself. And now, I was going to do exactly the same thing, like literally walking a mile in his shoes.

The Great Hall was jam-packed with students, stuffing their faces with Yorkshire puddings, mashed potato and gravy. Ron explained all of this while shovelling two pieces of beef – simultaneously – into his mouth. And I wondered how on earth he expected to impress Hermione with his incredibly gallant ways.

She, on the other hand, looked a lot less happy about our plan of action tomorrow. First of all, was I even going to be well enough to go? I mean, the duel would take its toll, especially if I was bound to lose. Resting the day after seemed like the most sensible thing to do. Then again, I'm not sensible, am I?

Secondly, it was pretty much illegal. Sneaking out of school? Hermione had called it 'bunking'. The ginger came to my defence.

"It's only bunking if he has lessons, which he doesn't," Ron reasoned, stabbing his green beans with unnecessary force, "C'mon, what's one day out going to do? We need a break from all this drama."

"Yes, but this 'drama' is important. Percy needs to find his memories, Ronald." You could tell she was becoming annoyed because she called him by his full name. You knew it was really going down.

Ron waved it off with his fork, "Nah. It's only one day, right, Perce?"

I wasn't sure I appreciated the nickname, but either way, I poked my Yorkshire with my fork.

"Well, it'd be nice to have my memories back, but I want to see around the place. Explore."

Hermione pursed her lips, taking her goblet, "But we may not have time to explore. Doesn't anyone else see?" she took a quick sip of pumpkin juice before hastily replacing it on the table, "You have a 'purpose' to complete. For all we know, it could be a dark force or an attack on Hogwarts. _And_ you have to duel Malfoy later!"

Ron shrugged, "But, Hermione, Hogwarts is the safest place there is on earth. How do you think a 'dark force' could get in here?"

"Sirius Black managed it."

I was going to say that he must have been a _Sirius-ly_ good wizard to have done that, but decided it was not quite the right time to make jokes.

"Yeah, well, Sirius was different," Ron snapped, before instantly regretting it. Hermione was taken aback by his tone and whipped around to face away, pouting. Her face burned red with hurt and anger.

"Er, guys," I said, but they ignored me.

"I'm sorry, but we have to have fun _too_, you know." Hermione didn't buy it, but she shifted in her seat to face Ron anyway.

"Fine," then she turned to me and suddenly I felt victimised and very sweaty, "Go to Hogsmeade then. It's a risky move and I don't want any part of it."

I gulped. This wasn't how I intended this evening to go, "No, wait, Herms-"

"No '_wait'_, Percy. You're breaking school rules. Even this duel is breaking school rules; this is Malfoy we're talking about! You could be killed – or worse, _expelled_-"

"How is being killed worse than being expelled?" I asked, quite genuinely, cocking an eyebrow.

She only shut her mouth like a bear trap and glared at me indignantly.

"If that is how you want to play it, fine," her fiery gaze settled on Ron, "Don't you care about the disappearance of your _best friend_?! I'm going to find out where Harry is. I'm going to look up more about gods. I'm going to discover what the 'purpose' is. Don't come crying to me when you're hurt or caught by teachers!"

And with that, Hermione shot up from her seat, grabbed her half-burnt bag and stormed off into the corridors, leaving Ron and I utterly mortified and no knowing what to do next. Her plate was unfinished.

I could see Ron wanting to go after her, but he hesitated, glancing between me and the hallway.

"No, we can't do this…" he mumbled, staring at the door even long after Hermione had left. Even he had lost his appetite – something pretty rare for him.

Although I didn't want to fight with Hermione as much as I did with Malfoy, I couldn't just withdraw now. I only got into the duel because I was standing up for Ron and her, the very girl that didn't approve.

I bit my lip, "We have no choice when it comes to the duel. I can't back away now, can I?"

Ron slowly shook his head. There was too much pressure on us to turn around and say 'oh, sorry, not doing it anymore!'. At the same time, Hermione was so obviously bothered by it that the first idea was tempting even Ron.

"What should we do?" he asked, finally turning in his seat back to the table.

"I don't know. After dinner, we should go find her and apologise."

"But c'mon, we do need a break from saving the world. Harry, Hermione and I have been doing it for four years already. What's one illegal trip to Hogsmeade going to do?"

I couldn't really say, but I felt bad for Hermione. She had put in all of the work and help to get me through spells and my first few lessons (and still now… I really couldn't be bothered to learn about Urg the Unclean). I knew we would have to apologise, even if Ron still felt we should get a breath of fresh air once in a while.

"Okay, hurry up then, and we'll go find her."

=#=#=#=

When we left the Great Hall to look for Hermione, after an awkward ten minutes of eating dinner in silence and avoiding the probing questions of Lavender Brown, we bumped into Ron's little sister.

Well, I say bump, but it was more 'collided', 'crashed'… that sort of thing.

I went butt-first to the floor, as did she, when I rounded a corner a bit too quickly. I really needed to stop doing that. For a second, I thought it was Crabbe or Goyle again.

Naturally, Ron was horrified, "Ginny!" he said, grabbing her arm and helping her up.

"I'm okay, Ron. Calm down," she said, with a roll of her eyes. Ron continued to faff over his sister while completely ignoring the new guy with his bottom still plastered to the floor.

"Thanks for the help…" I muttered, standing up myself, "Sorry for bumping into you, er, Ginny."

"I'm sorry too," she stated, looking right at me with her blue eyes. She looked almost exactly like Ron, but with longer, straighter ginger hair and feminine features. Even her ears turned bright red like Ron's did, who cleared his throat.

"Ginny, this is Per-"

"Percy Jackson, I've heard," she said, studying me with curiosity. Oh, totally checking me out, "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I returned with a grin, and she blushed. To cover it up, her attention shifted to her brother and she glared at him uneasily.

"Ron," Ginny Weasley snapped, "Why didn't you tell me Harry had gone abroad?"

Ron shrugged, trying to keep his cool. It mustn't have been easy to lie to your sister. Or, maybe it was, but Ron was just awful at lying, "Er, I hadn't come across you recently."

She frowned in return, but bought the bait, "Well, it would have been nice to have heard it through your mouth, being his best friend and all, instead of Fred and George." You could tell though that she was hurt – the disappearance of Harry obviously affected her a lot. Her grip on her bag tightened.

Ron, eager to change the subject, towered over her intimidatingly, "Ginny, what's this I hear about you skulking around with a Slytherin?"

She cocked an eyebrow, already suspicious of him, "_What_?"

"You know, _Nico di Angelo_?"

Ginny looked genuinely hurt, taking a step backward and regarding him with disgust, "What do you mean, 'skulking around'?! Nico has been my library buddy for over two years!"

This time it was Ron's turn to cock an eyebrow. I felt very uncomfortable then, since I could sense a bro-sis argument cooking in the cauldron. Ron crossed his arms.

"What? I've never seen him before!"

Ginny glowered angrily as her older brother, before making a heel-face turn on the spot and glancing over her shoulder callously.

"That's because you haven't bothered to notice that not _all_ Slytherins are mean and nasty!" And with that comment left hanging awkwardly in the air, the ginger Gryffindor girl stormed off with a huff. Ron looked equally annoyed as he uncrossed and crossed his arms and grumbled.

"I've never seen that kid before in my life, let alone him being all comfy and friendly with Ginny…" he murmured, watching as his sister made her way up a flight of stairs, "He was a weird kid. Why would she want to hang around him?"

That wasn't what bothered me. She had said that Nico had been her friend for over two years – but I recognised him. Had I been here for two years and forgotten everything? But then how did everyone else forget about me and remember Harry? It didn't make any sense.

"Eh, your sister can hang out with whomever she wants."

"No, she can't," Ron said huffily, "If she starts dating him, I swear..!" My spine shivered. The idea of her dating Nico di Angelo was terrifying, but I couldn't figure out why.

My duel was in about half an hour and I really didn't have any more time to lose. Instead of looking for our hurt friend we decided to head to the destination of my first wizard duel.

=#=#=#=

The second Charms classroom was a quiet, quaint and rather cute place during the day. But when a super-secret duel to the almost-death was going on, well, it was a different story.

Students had pushed all of the tables and chairs to the side, leaving a gaping empty space in the middle of the room. Set up was a thin and long platform, presumably where all the action would happen. Cushions and mattresses (Hades knows where they got those from) were dotted around everywhere, but only on their side of the room.

The only people present were a bunch of Slytherin lackeys, all laughing in my direction as they shielded Draco and his second from my view. With a powerful jerk, I threw off Harry's robe and drew his wand, brandishing it like a trophy. Ron did the same, but it looked a lot less cool.

"I _am_ your second, right?"

"Well," I noted casually, "I can hardly ask Hermione, can I?"

He didn't reply.

The Slytherins didn't do anything, only muttering in their circle. I kept my unflappable spirit and leaned against the wall, grinning confidently at Ron. I passed it off as easy as cake but inside I was a nervous wreck and sweating worse than a basketball player. Harry's wand working was essential to me now or I would be the loser who couldn't hold his own against a midget.

Ron sensed my nerves and patted me on the shoulder, "Don't worry mate. We can do this," he whispered.

_Easy for you to say_, I thought, _you're not the one who has to take him on!_

The muttering died down when the door opened. For a scary moment, I thought it was a teacher.

Instead, in entered Hermione Granger; hair bushier than usual and looking very resentful. Ron and I practically exploded with happiness, sprinting to give her a hug.

"Why am I here again-" she began before instantly she was seized by Ron and myself. Actually, they were hugging and I was that awkward third kid trying to get in on the action but obviously failing.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, a grin erupting, "I'm so glad you turned up!"

"You're squishing me," she said, and we let go. She had to bite back a grin that was surfacing on her face, "Yes, I'm here. I'm… I'm sorry for shouting – this is just such a bad idea and if we were caught, well… I don't like to think about it. And I didn't think you could do it without some support."

"I'm sorry too," I said quickly, "If I look like an arrogant prat. I assure you, I'm not like Malfoy."

Hermione giggled.

"I do care about my memories, and finding this 'purpose', but-"

"Save it, Percy," she held up her hand to signal silence, "I know you can't turn it down. You're doing this for me and Ron and I really appreciate it."

We were silent.

"Er, and me," said Ron, furrowing his eyebrows, "But I'm helping, so…"

"If you losers are done playing families," added a snide voice. The three of us whirled around: Draco was standing, arms cross, nose in the air and wand in hand, as his Slytherin buddies stood behind him menacingly, "We can duel. Then you'll regret calling me a midget!"

I shrugged with a smirk, "Can't help your awful genes, can we, munchkin?" Draco's face turned red with anger, as he features scrunched into extreme dislike.

"Crabbe," he ordered, as the big guy stepped forward, "You're my second. Hit him if he pulls anything nasty." Draco took off his cloak, loosened his shirt collar and made his way to the platform, gripping his wand and glaring at me.

I turned around. Ron and Hermione were smiling with assurance.

"We've practiced," said Hermione, "I know you can do it." Ron smirked.

"And if you don't, I'll kick his butt for you."

We laughed.

"Thanks, guys," I said, giving them the thumbs up and making my way to the platform.

=#=#=#=

Of course, Pansy Parkinson just had to be referee. She had absolutely no idea what the rules were and 'fairness' was. Then again, I don't think any of Draco's cronies knew what 'fairness' was. They probably hadn't ever opened a dictionary in their lives. Not the best advantage I had now.

Pansy explained the rules too quickly for me to register before Draco and I were standing back to back. It was hilarious because the top of his head was where my neck began.

I didn't need to see his face to figure out he was sneering.

"Ready to lose, _Dud_? Shame you didn't make that Wit-Sharpening potion. It would have really boosted you from Troll to Dreadful."

I gripped tighter on the wand in my hand. I don't think I'd ever met someone with so much hatred to give around. Voldemort may have been the 'darkest, most evil wizard of all time', but he probably couldn't throw as insult like this kid could.

We took three steps forward and turned to face each other. Draco held his wand above his head, pointed at me, and bent his knees. I laughed.

"Are you actually serious?"

Without warning, Pansy screeched, "BEGIN!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" the midget roared, with a bright white light bursting in my direction. With reflexes like a ninja, I dodged, ducking out of range and pointing Harry's wand.

"_Stupefy_!" I cried, causing Draco to stumble backwards and buckle to the ground. I smirked. First shot to Percy.

"Huh," he said, "You actually _have_ some magic in you…"

Far, far away from the platform Hermione yelled, "Great job Percy!"

I looked at her with a grin. First mistake.

Draco got up quicker than expected a launched another _Expelliarmus_ in my direction. My wand jumped from my hands and skirted halfway across the classroom floor. I stared in horror as Draco ran forward to get it.

Not going to happen.

I sprang up like a pouncing tiger and just managed to grab it as Draco reached down. He sneered nastily.

"_Stupefy_!"

I tried to roll out of the way, but failed epically. Blasting backwards, I crumpled into a ball at the end of the platform and yelped in pain. Draco shakily stood, aiming at me again, but not before I could do the same.

"_Petrif_-"

"_Impedimenta_!"

And this is when it all turned as pear-shaped as Pansy's figure.

Harry's wand, who had been simply a star until now, decided, no, it was going to slow Draco. Instead, it was going to almost blow his head off. Draco only just managed to fling himself out of the way and off the platform before a peachy-coloured flare collided with the wall behind him and left a gaping hole in its wake. Even the room seemed to shudder.

I stared in horror. Oh, Zeus, Hermione was going to kill me for breaking the school.

Draco wearily stood up from the floor and glared with extra-mean malice.

"Are you trying to kill me?!"

"No!" I shrieked, but Draco had past the point of no return. His wand was pointed directly at my face.

"If you want to play rough, then we'll play rough! _Confringo_!" The same shot of eerie pink-ness burst from his wand straight for my horrified face. At the last second I ducked, letting it miss the door by inches and cause an uneasy crack in the wall.

"_Confringo_!" he yelled again, like a maniac, "_Confringo! Confringo! Confringo!_"

I ran for my life, not bothering to cast protection charms in case my wand decided to blow _my_ head off. I didn't look back as peach energy fired from all directions, producing craters in the walls like it was the newest style. Draco's second Crabbe had even joined in the fun.

Now Ron stepped in.

"_Flipendo_!" he yelled; the hex slamming into Draco and making him double-somersault in the air like an acrobat.

"UNFAIR SHOT FROM SECOND!" yelled Pansy unhelpfully, drawing her own wand and pointing it at Ron. A small duel had turn into a battlefield of madness, except it was two versus five.

Hermione, I could just see, had hidden herself behind a table, firing petrifying spells when someone got dangerously close for comfort. Cracks had appeared and now some of the pipes had burst, with floods of water crashing into the room.

Draco was just about to unleash another flurry of _Confringos_ when suddenly, I felt utterly and totally invigorated. Power flowed back into my veins, some bruises and cuts healed themselves, and weirdest of all, it felt like the waters beneath me were under my control. A gut instinct told me they were.

Without wasting another second, I threw my hand into the air, the water obeying my demand. It crashed into Draco with a wave of fury, making him topple like a Greek column and washed into the back wall.

Ron, still going wand-to-wand with Crabby McUgly, almost dropped his in shock when I commanded a crazy wash of bath water to send him swimming. After seconds, I had gathered all of the Slytherins in one go, at the back wall, before I felt a sudden feeling of tiredness.

The waters dropped, sloshing at our feet and levelling out like a storm had passed. I had no idea what I did or how I did it, but whatever it was, I couldn't be any more thankful. The greens stared at me with fear and shock.

"He's a freak!" yelled Pansy, clutching the wall as much as her dark hair was clutching her face.

I pointed intimidatingly at them, most prominently at Draco.

"Don't ever come near my friends again!"

And then, the door opened.

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Le gasp! You'll have to tune in next time to see what happens!

Thank you endlessly for reviews, favourites, author favourites, macaroons, alerts, whatever! I appreciate them immensely and I really hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Keep it real,

~ GD

Thank you to Define Incompetent (not Shippuu-Ookami lololol) for helping me find some cool ideas for the next couple of chapters. Your help in invaluable, so stay awesome.


	8. Awful Rhymes and Manly Teddy Bears

Hi - GreenWithAwesome (GD) here! New chapter!

Just to note, England is ahead of in terms of timezone. It's just I fail when it comes to timing lol.

Also my friends Helen and KT say hi. YOU HAPPY NOW?!

Enjoy!

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

For the rest of the day, Harry had been practicing with Riptide, with little success. It was a heavy thing, which required both of Harry's hands to lift. Not only that, but it was sluggish to swing and it took all of his effort just to lift it.

With everyone else on the _Argo II_ using small close-range weapons or pure fire-power (literally), Harry had no-one to teach him how to hold it properly, let alone use it competently. While trying to attack the air, Harry had almost taken Leo's head off… even though he was at least three metres away.

Leo's arms flung into the air, "How is that even possible?!"

Harry didn't know either, and, to be honest, the whole idea of using a sword baffled him anyway. He gingerly capped Riptide, remembering that next time he would practice without other people on the deck. Actually, anywhere on the ship.

The day soon fell into the darkness, and it would take at least until morning to reach Maine. After a quick dinner and small discussion over the prophecy (which hadn't really probed their thoughts more than it had when they first received it), Harry went to bed. He was completely and utterly shattered – the whole business with learning how to use a sword well was stressing him out, so much that the minute he hit the pillow he was off to dreamland.

Harry had a dreamless sleep.

Hah, of course he didn't.

It was the cloudy place again, like a mysterious space that floated in between the sky and the earth. Luckily, Harry remembered the endless pathways to nowhere, and decided against moving anywhere. If it was a goddess visiting his head, she would appear at some point without him having to move.

For a few moments, Harry thought that maybe this weird world was like limbo – a midway between life and death. Of course not, Harry corrected himself. Limbo didn't exist.

Then, without warning, a dim light erupted right at the place where Harry had sat down. He fell off the cloud-thing, landing on his back and rolling over. When he looked up, the same woman with the flowing robes and dark eyes regarded him with a small smile. Her skin was sickly pale.

"I do not have much time-"

"You _never_ have much time," Harry pointed out. The goddess chuckled.

"Oh, you make a fine boy for my plan. I am here just to reassure you – I can feel your doubt. You are doing well," then she scowled, gazing at the floor, "Although it seems I have been slightly set back. I will have to find a suitable replacement…"

"What?" asked Harry. He had a feeling him speaking at all was in vain.

The goddess smiled at him again. Her hair was brittle, but it floated in the air like someone had taken a fan and was blowing it at her face.

"This will be my last encounter with you for a while, for I am too weak to talk to you anymore. They grow more powerful by the day, and you must stop them. I wish you well with your quest. And Harry," she paused, brightening in dull light again like she was going to explode, "Follow the signs."

Harry quickly flicked his head away, and, just like he predicted, the goddess flashed and was gone.

=#=#=#=

"DIE!"

That was the sound that woke Harry up in the morning. His eyes shot open, and he was sweating.

That dream had just confused him even more. His head swelled with questions he wanted to ask – who the heck was she? What did he have to do? What does the prophecy mean? Of course, now it was too late to ask anything, because he had wasted his last opportunity for a while. Harry inwardly scolded himself for being stupid.

Speaking of stupid, he jumped out of bed without a second thought, threw on his glasses, grabbed Riptide and aimed for the door. By the sound of it, someone was attacking the ship. And Harry had just been lying in bed like a wally, dwelling on his latest adventure to dreamland and ignoring the death threats that were likely standing outside of his door waiting to gobble up his guts.

The bespectacled boy threw the door open. It wasn't what he expected.

First of all, Annabeth had crowded herself into the furthest corner of the corridor, looking so scared and whitish that she could faint.

Piper was rushing around with her dagger, trying and failing to slash at… her feet?

Lastly, and definitely the most shocking thing he had seen for a while: a short man wearing a baseball cap and a whistle hanging around his neck, with a very long baseball bat in his hand swinging it around like a nutter.

Then Harry saw his legs. It was the same satyr from a couple of days ago – the one he bumped into in the middle of the night. He was very angry, lugging the baseball bat like he was slaughtering invisible enemies.

"DIE!" he screamed again, with Piper hot on his trail. For a scary second, Harry thought she was trying to attack the satyr (well, it was better than her own feet). Then he realised that they weren't aiming for each other or body parts of any kind.

A tiny spider scuttled around on the floor, clearing running for its life. The scene was chaos until Baseball Cap and Piper hurried after it as it darted away into the next corridor.

Annabeth relaxed a little, breathing a huge sigh of relief. She uncurled herself from the wall, shakily tiptoeing over to where Harry stood, who still had Riptide drawn.

"Ah, you can put your sword away now," she said, clutching her knife like it was the most important thing ever.

Harry just raised an eyebrow, but did as she said, popping Riptide back into pen form, "Good morning to you too. What's going on?"

Annabeth frowned, "Ah, just a…" she shuddered, "a spider. I hate those things."

"I can tell," Harry replied, glancing at her knife that was still firmly in her hands.

From a little away in the ship, the satyr yelled, "DON'T THINK YOU CAN SCURRY FROM ME, CUPCAKE!"

"Who is that guy?"

Annabeth sighed, fingering with the hilt of her knife, "Oh, that's Gleeson Hedge, but we just call him Coach Hedge or Coach. He's the protector sent to retrieve Piper, Leo and their friend Jason from their school."

Harry pursed his lips, "What?" The blonde girl just gave a dismissive wave.

"Oh, when demigods are found, we send in a satyr to find them and bring them back to Camp. It's a long process." Harry nodded, but he didn't really understand. Not that he wanted to, if it was a 'long process'. Annabeth continued, "We found him napping in the stables on the ship after you had turned in. Looks like he accidentally hitchhiked a ride along."

Harry frowned, and he let it show. As much as a great job he was doing with the whole, er, 'protector' thing, he seemed like a lot of trouble. That baseball bat just made Harry feel uneasy.

The intercom suddenly buzzed al around the ship, and the corridors were filled with Leo's voice, "What's all the racket?!"

Coach Hedge shouted back, appearing back in the corridor again along with Piper, "DON'T WORRY; I GOT IT!"

Piper crossed her arms, with Katoptris sheathed in her belt, "_I_ was the one who got it…"

Coach Hedge waved it off, "Whatever. VALDEZ, WE'RE FINE. JUST DRIVE THE SHIP. Hahah, drive a ship? That's funny." He regarded Harry with raised eyebrows.

"So, you're the new kid, are you? Scrawnier than Jackson was, and your hair is untidier… just," He surveyed Harry's pyjamas and smirked, "Heh, nice teddies, cupcake."

Harry must have blushed. Okay, so, he hadn't any supplies with him. He didn't have any spare clothes, or anything, so had to borrow things from the other voyagers. The only one with spare PJs was Piper, who, well, favoured baby-blue t-shirts and shorts with teddies.

Coach Hedge laughed at Harry's reaction, "Don't worry, Ted. I won't tell anyone."

"It's Harry Potter." Weirdly, the word 'Ted' sent shots of nervousness into his brain, but he didn't let it show.

"Got it, Teddy. So, what's for breakfast?"

=#=#=#=

Leo had put the ship on autopilot, we discovered, when (after Harry dressed in something more appropriate) they all congested into the dining hall. Harry found this room particularly cool, because it was charmed to never run out of food and drink supplies. Clothes were washed too, which was great, except the fact that Harry had none of his own to clean. There was even TV screens that showed life back at camp, but it only seemed to make everyone more homesick.

Coach Hedge had taken a place at the head of the table, poking at his scrambled egg. The demigods plus Harry seated themself around. The minute he sat down, Harry received a plate teeming with bacon, eggs, sausages, toast and hash browns. It was a true English breakfast, and it made his mouth water.

Annabeth just looked a bit miffed that she wasn't sitting at the head of table, "Right. Order of plan today: find the 'teller with a tongue of rhymes'. Shouldn't be too hard… then again, I don't want to jinx it."

"I didn't take you as superstitious, Annabeth," said Piper, who was tucking into her pancakes.

She shrugged, "I'm not, but we just tend to run into these people by chance. I don't really want to scour the whole city. We don't have time."

Everyone knew what she was on about: Percy. If he was out in the world, without a weapon, he wasn't going to last long. Nobody really liked to think too hard about that.

When there silence, except for the sound of Coach Hedge gnawing at a fizzy drink can, Annabeth spoke, "Maine is huge, but hopefully we can find some information there. When will we land, Leo?"

He looked relieved to speak, "Should be ready to just after breakfast, actually. The main problem is finding somewhere to land," then he laughed, "Hah! Get it? _Main_ problem?"

"Your jokes get worse by the hour, cupcake," input the Coach.

Leo just grinned.

"Er," Harry said, "This ship is huge. We can't just park it in a field and leave it, can we?"

"Oh, I haven't explained the Mist," said Annabeth, cutting into her toast, "The Mist is a supernatural force that manipulates the minds of mortals. So, while we see a ship, they see… I don't know; a huge statue, or something."

_Well, darn_, Harry thought, _that's one big statue_.

"Anyway, Leo, I don't think that's a huge cause for concern. The bigger problem is finding this 'teller'."

Piper nodded in agreement, "I really hope it doesn't take all day."

"I propose three people go out at once, while two guard the ship," Annabeth looked around expectantly. Nobody really wanted to volunteer to keep the ship; that was the most boring part. Leo sighed.

"Fine; I'll stay behind. Festus needs some company anyway," he shrugged, "Don't suppose you want to stay, Coach?"

Hedge grunted, "Well, my nap was totally interrupted by Annabeth wailing. I need to catch up on those Z's."

Leo frowned, which was probably a first, "Uh, Coach, you've napped for over a day now."

"Bah," he replied immediately, shifting his cap, "I need my beauty sleep, cupcake. Don't complain – I could come out of my room a lot uglier, you know."

Leo opened his mouth to say something, but decided against. Harry had a pretty good idea what he was going to say though, and had to stifle a laugh. The group finished the rest of the food before bustling to the upstairs deck.

The weather was nippy and cold. Harry wrapped up in his anorak that he borrowed from Leo. It was a lovely and soft jumper, but unfortunately, the cold still whacked into him harshly like a typical November morning. The sun was hidden by a multitude of clouds but still shining down with a dull light. It instantly reminded Harry of his dream about the goddess. He quickly grabbed Annabeth by the arm and pulled her aside.

"I had another dream," he said. She just blinked and looked completely bewildered.

"Sorry. You just startled me by grabbing my arm like that," she shook her head, "What was the dream about?"

Harry imparted his dream to her – the place, the exploding, her reassurance (that hadn't really reassured him all that much), and the replacement thing. Harry didn't understand what that meant, and neither did Annabeth, by her puzzled expression.

"Replacement for what?" she muttered, scratching her chin. Harry just shrugged.

"I don't know… again," he really wasn't appreciating all of the cryptic advice he was getting, "She also told me to 'follow the signs'."

"Ugh," said Annabeth, "They tend to be those subtle ones, like changes within or something, rather than actual signs. You'd think they'd make it easier for us, wouldn't they?"

It was too much to ask. Harry just leaned casually against the rail and stared up at the sky. Why couldn't they just say what this prophecy meant and what he had to do?

Annabeth seemed to understand this, putting a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, "Don't worry; we'll get through this." And Harry believed her. She knew what she was doing.

"Hate to interrupt your budding romance, cupcakes," Coach Hedge suddenly approached and pointed down below, "But Maine awaits. Valdez wants permission to land this baby."

Annabeth went bright red, "No, I wasn't-… We weren't-… Oh, whatever," she let off a small smile at Harry before striding over to Leo, who was mashing controls on the panel. She quickly ordered him to land in a cosy little park in the middle of the biggest city of the state: Augusta.

The park was right near the high street, much to their happiness. Annabeth, Piper and Harry prepared themselves to depart.

"Right," said Annabeth, "August is the capital city of Maine. If our search yields unsuccessful, well, I guess we'll have to keep looking in the next city. We'll be back before six."

"Call me if you cupcakes ever need someone to help kick some butt!" Coach Hedge did his best martial artist impression, kicking and punching the air with gusto, "I'll finish 'em off for ya'!"

"Thanks, Coach," said Piper half-heartedly, "Have you got Riptide, Harry?"

Harry's hand dove in his trouser pockets – the pen was tucked in nicely along with a pack of tissues and a paperclip. He was all set.

"Ready," he replied.

"We're off," said Annabeth, taking the step onto the ladder.

=#=#=#=

Augusta was a huge place. Harry was certain he had never been to North America before, and Augusta, Maine was a nice place to start his tour. The roads were chock-full of shoppers going for the November deals or going Christmas shopping early. There was a huge array of restaurants, cafés, schools, bookshops, game stores and clothing boutiques, all arranged in the neat blocks and separated by roads non-exempt from traffic. The wide Kennebec River cut through the city like a slice of cheese. It was so much to take in that Harry reckoned he could easily get lost and never be able to navigate his way back to the _Argo II_.

Him, Annabeth and Piper waded their way through the throngs of people, trying to find an empty place to sit and think. It was only then that Harry properly realised the scale of their mission – this city was huge, let alone Maine. How were they going to find one person in a place this large?

It seemed doubly impossible when they found a bench. They all squeezed into the seat, cautious to avoid the homeless man that was sleeping next to them.

"Gods, okay," said Annabeth, fixing her hair, "Right. Where should we look first?" she looked at Harry for guidance, but Harry was speechless. He hadn't ever been here before and he hadn't the faintest idea where to start. Piper sensed his discomfort.

"Well, this person has a 'tongue of rhymes', right? That's poetry. Maybe we should go to the library?" The blonde smiled at this suggestion.

"That's a smart idea. Objections, Harry?"

"Nope," he said. It was better than sitting on a park bench next to a hermit feeling sorry for his prospective future.

They jumped up and Annabeth asked for directions to the library, the nearest of which being the Lithgow Public Library on Winthrop Street. They had to board a taxi to get there, and it took about seven minutes driving.

"So, this is the main library," Piper blushed with embarrassment, "Oh, gods, Leo's bad sense of humour is rubbing off on me."

The taxi had plonked them down right in front of the pathway to an elegant and traditional-looking structure; it looked a bit like the Big House back at camp, but obviously bigger. The outside was surrounded by cute little trees and the stone walls appeared corroded but still patterned. Annabeth cringed.

"If I were a daughter of Apollo, I would love this quest," she said, making her way up the steps, "And I don't even get to see the architecture section…"

"Maybe if we get time," said Piper with a frown. Harry liked books, but poetry didn't really tickle his taste buds. There was nothing more boring than watching a bunch of keen people waffle on about love in Old English.

The inside was the same as the outside – old-fashioned, but the walls were beautifully decorated with pastel colours and dated designs. It was like stepping into the house in _Pride and Prejudice_. The trio made their way passed the huge stack of books, all sorted into different genres – including three sections dedicated solely to trashy vampire love novels. Harry pointed out a huge range of fictions and non-fictions, from Chaucer to Charles Dickens and from _The Odyssey_ to _The Lord of the Flies_.

Finally, after scouring the library, they found the poetry section. Although a generous portion of the library was dedicated solely for the purpose or spreading rhyme, it was mostly deserted – except from a school-aged girl with straight blonde-brown hair reading her _Kindle_ avidly and occasionally sniggering. Annabeth scowled.

"No-one else is here," she mumbled, glancing around. An entire part of the library was completely silent save the snorts of laughter from the girl.

"You don't think she's the 'teller with a tongue of rhymes', do you?" Piper whispered.

"I hope not," said Harry. He didn't like the way she was laughing to herself, "But there's no harm in asking, I guess."

Despite the protests of Annabeth, Harry walked over. The girl didn't even look up when he approached.

"Excuse me," he whispered. She looked up, her green eyes immediately fixating on Harry with interest and losing the girly giddiness demonstrated earlier.

"Yes?" The girl replied in a high-pitched voice. Harry was already beginning to doubt himself, but he kept going.

"Teller with a Tongue of Rhymes?" She just cocked an eyebrow.

"What? No. I don't know where that book is, if you're looking for it. Just because I'm here _every_ day doesn't mean I know the location of every single book that resides here!" then she stroked her chin, "But it's kinda' cool to see young people into poetry. There is hope for the world; people are too wrapped up in their precious trashy romance novels. Why, when I opened the first page of _Fifty Shades of-_"

Harry cut her off, disappointed, "Oh, okay. Thanks for the help."

The girl started again, "I know next-to-nothing about poetry, but if Gabe was here he could help you. It sucks that he's at the poetry competition at the University of Maine."

As Harry was about to slip away unnoticed, he froze to a halt and almost blinked in disbelief, "Pardon?"

She glanced at him again, "Oh, the poetry competition? Yeah, this place is usually teeming with rhyming nuts but they've all gone to strut their verbal stuff at The University of Maine at Augusta Poetry Get-Go. My friend Gabe is competing and I read his piece and it's surprisingly quite good-"

"Thanks for the help!" interrupted Harry, grinning sheepishly, "I'm, er, going to go there right now."

"Oh, tell Gabe I said hi! I would totally go myself but this essay won't write itself-"

Harry didn't stay to hear the rest. He sped back to the girls, who were browsing a bookcase with boredom, and relayed his conversation. Annabeth seemed to brighten.

"A poetry competition? That sounds… strangely convenient."

"Yes," Piper agreed, "But a 'teller with a tongue of rhymes' wouldn't be able to resist! Hopefully." The group quickly left the Lithgow Library, probably never more excited about a poetry competition before.

"We actually might be able to leave before midday!" said Annabeth, grinning, as Piper hailed a taxi to the University of Maine.

And boy did she regret saying that.

=#=#=#=

When the trio got to the University of Maine at Augusta, they almost misplaced their jaws in surprise.

When the library girl said that there was a sea of rhyming nuts, she wasn't joking. In every corner of the room, there were people – mostly old – all with paper in hands and rehearsing their lines. Some were dressed in crazy costumes that resembled Shakespeare, others had come scantily clad. It was a convention for poetry madmen.

It cost them a packet to enter, as well as some suspicious looks from the old people selling the tickets, but eventually they managed to squeeze themselves into the lecture hall used. There was a man on the stage faffing around with the technical equipment, and another fixing the curtains.

Harry quickly spotted three seats near enough to each other, and grabbed them before an elderly dressed like Lady Gaga on a bad hair day could. Annabeth sat right at the front, and shot a worried look at Harry as he squished in next to two old men practicing their lines just behind her. Piper sat further back, but Harry could just hear her squealing with displeasure.

The man on the stage tapped the microphone.

"Is this thing on?" when his voice projected throughout the entire hall, he clapped excitedly, "Great! Okay! Welcome to The University of Maine at Augusta Poetry Get-Go! I'm Curtis, your host for today."

Curtis gestured to his friend, who had just finished aligning the curtains, "And that's Mike, my technical assistant. Our panel of judges today, who are sitting right at the top there, consist of Craig, Darcie, Len and Bruno. We've got so great prizes up for grabs to the winner, and the other places – including a trip to the Golden Globe in London!"

There was a collective 'oooh' amongst the crowd. Harry just groaned.

"So, now that's done, who's ready to rhyme?!"

The crowd roared with delight. Harry just shrunk in his seat.

"That's what I like to hear! Let's not waste any more time, because we've clearly got many to go through! Okay, the first act is…" Mike handed him a sheet of card, and he read the first name, "Kellyn Davids!"

An old, wrinkly man with curly grey hair topped with a trilby hat stood up, clutching his paper with incredible confidence and grinning broadly. It must have taken him at least ten minutes to get on the stage.

Harry tried his very best to pay attention, but after about ten rubbish poems on the subject of car tyres he was finding it very difficult to stay focused. He had no idea how to pick out a 'teller with a tongue of rhymes' from a group of poets, if they all liked to rhyme and sound eloquent. If the teller was even _here_. He might be in a different city for Merlin's sake.

The poets droned on; at some point Gabe Greyson strode onto the stage a proclaimed his love of apple juice via limericks. Harry couldn't take any more of this torture – he'd rather be writing that essay.

It must have been about three o'clock when finally something interesting happened. One of the poets fell of stage.

It must have been about half-three when finally something relevant happened. Curtis, who still seemed so attentive and thrilled about the whole poetry competition, bustled on stage after the last poet was done.

"Fabulous! Okay, next we have…" he checked his sheet, "Nostradamus Trelawney!"

Harry's ears ringed with awareness. That name, especially the last name, was wickedly familiar to him. His gut flared with alarm – it was this person. This had to be the teller with the tongue of rhymes.

He turned around, about to signal to Piper, but she had fallen asleep in the chair.

He shifted around again, watching the Trelawney man trundle onto stage. His hair was wavy and cropped, almost grey but not quite there, and he was short with a walking stick. His eyes were huge and grey; mystery danced in them like pixies at a festival.

He took the microphone from Curtis and cleared his throat.

"_You shall go up north, to a land of pine-_" Harry's mouth dropped like a brick. He was reciting the prophecy he had received not a day ago.

"_-to meet a teller with a tongue of rhyme._

_Where sorcery is powerful and memories ignite;_

_mired by misfortune during your flight;_

_With sad words and friends, can you fly a safe way_

_and journey abroad to the country of grey._

_By meeting lost ones as well as old friends_

_can you see the praise of foes in the end._

_With help and assistance a Roman will guide,_

_but only when wand and sword collide._"

The crowd went wild with applause. Harry gulped – this had to be the teller. How did he know his own prophecy? The other poets didn't seem to care, cheering madly for Nostradamus Trelawney. The men next to Harry were in tears of joy.

"That was beautiful!" one cried.

"So eloquent!" said the other, "And I don't even understand it!" Well, you could say _that_ again.

Nostradamus Trelawney bowed very low, before putting the microphone to his lips again.

"Thank you, poets, for I am very glad. The outcome of the prophecy may not be so bad. Of course, that depends, on the path of the heroes. They must overcome much if they are to defeat their foes." He gave the microphone back to Curtis, who was also spilling tears of happiness.

Annabeth finally flicked her head around, staring hard at Harry. He nodded in understanding. This was their man.

=#=#=#=

Surprisingly, Trelawney didn't win first prize. He got close second, narrowly missing out to a man who had written a song with so many innuendoes Harry felt ill after accidentally tuning in to it. Apparently, Trelawney had come second because 'his poem was too enigmatic' (much to the chagrin of the audience).

Either way, he didn't seem disappointed when he eagerly held up his plane tickets to London and allowed the keen poets to take pictures with him. He just smiled as the cameras flashed and he was crowded.

"So, that's the one?" asked Piper, who yawned. She had fallen asleep for the entire thing, which was probably a good thing – especially concerning the first placer's awkward rhymes. Annabeth nodded, re-tying her hair.

"That's the one."

"I recognise his surname," said Harry, watching as he was practically mobbed by a pair of fangirls – well, more like fan-grannies, "Trelawney. I know that from somewhere."

Annabeth nodded firmly, "All the more reason to believe he's the teller. He really does have a tongue in rhyme – even after he finished reciting the prophecy."

Annabeth covering her ears as Piper stepped forward to the crowd. Suddenly her voice became very influencing.

"Step aside, please," Her tone urged Harry to do so, and he felt himself take a huge step backward. Annabeth grabbed him back.

"That's her charmspeak. She can make people do as she says," the blonde noted, following Piper, "Don't listen, or cover your ears."

That explained _so_ much.

The crowd parted silently. Even the first and third placers moved out of the way. The only one who stood rooted to the spot was Nostradamus Trelawney, who merely smiled as they approached.

"Ah, I've been expecting you, young ones. Come; we can talk over tea and buns."

=#=#=#=

Once the crazy paparazzi-poets had left them alone (mostly with Piper's charmspeak helping), they jumped in his car and wheeled all the way to his little apartment near Augusta's central park, where Leo had plonked the Argo II. They could see it in the distance when they drove past.

"I do like your ship. It appears very hip," Piper cringed in the back seat, and the old man laughed, "Hahah! My rhymes have finesse! Like a model on a catwalk, I exist to impress."

"Right," said Annabeth, "Thank you for your time, Mr Trelawney. We really appreciate it."

"I know you do, young Annabeth Chase. I am pleased to know I can help solve this case." He was silent after that. Harry was wondering how he knew Annabeth's surname when they had only introduced first names, although it seemed obvious by now that not only could he rhyme but see into the future as well.

The stench of old socks was what hit them first. The two girls gagged the moment they stepped into his apartment – for some reason, Harry wasn't bothered by it. Old ornaments were dotted around and it resembled the olden days much like the library had. There was a really aged and fat television stuck in-between two plaid sofas. Trelawney shuffled over to his kitchenette and took out a plate with already-prepared tea and buns.

"I see prophecies with my inner eye; they call it a 'seer'. That's when I saw you three come down here," he offered the plate around before sitting in a rather large armchair and glancing at Annabeth, "I should not worry about your stay. The house is charmed, so the monsters keep away."

Annabeth stared at him, totally startled. He obviously guessed right, then. Harry took a cup of tea before passing the plate to Piper.

"So," she began, taking a bun, "Can you tell us what you know?"

Trelawney chuckled, "Your charmspeak does not work on me, Piper McLean. I overcame that many years ago," Piper gasped, both realising that he knew about her charmspeak and that he hadn't rhymed, but the old man wasn't finished, "I have your information though, so it may seem."

Then, he turned his head to Harry, who was quietly sipping at the tea, "And you, Harry Potter, it is a pleasure to meet. _The Boy Who Lived_, in that very seat!"

Harry blinked in confusion. He didn't see why it was such a pleasure to meet him, or why he called him 'The Boy Who Lived', "I'm sorry?"

Trelawney took a massive bite out of the bun, and chewed agonisingly slowly before swallowing and replying, "Yes, as a legacy of Apollo, I can aid in your quest. I foresaw the location that is for the best. The enemy draws closer, sending death threats to _them_-" he looked upwards to the ceiling, but Harry understood what he meant, "-but be cautious you should, on the way to Salem."

"Salem?" Piper asked immediately, "The city of Salem?"

Trelawney nodded, "It will not be easy; I hope you can see," then he glanced at Harry, "The gods are cannot help you… Would you like some more tea?"

Harry peered down. He had drunk all of the tea, but he wasn't thirsty anymore. This man's cryptic rhymes weren't helping him to solve anything, except the fact that he had to go to Salem.

Annabeth seemed to sense this unease too, "Actually, I think we've been here for too long. We ought to be going now."

Trelawney replaced the teapot on the tray and nodded firmly, "Ah, yes, you are wasting unnecessary time, talking to an old bat who likes to rhyme! Go – but be watchful of the skies at night. The darkest hour is when unpleasant ones take flight."

Harry shuddered. The ominous guidance just made him feel ten times worse. He shot up.

"Thanks, Mr Trelawney."

Nostradamus Trelawney ignored him, reaching for the remote and muttering, "Prime-time TV…"

They took it as their signal to leave. Without parting anymore words, the trio exited his apartment and made their way back to the ship. The sky was dark now, which made all three of them especially anxious.

They boarded the ship on silence, with Leo fiddling the controls. He grinned when they got on.

"So, how'd it go?"

Annabeth sighed, looking upwards, "We went to the local poetry competition, and met a madman who was a descendant of Apollo – a _fortune_ teller," she looked back at Leo seriously, "Set a course for Salem. That's our next destination."

"Salem?" Leo asked, but obeying by mashing some buttons, "Any particular reason?"

Piper stepped in, "The old man told us we should. Didn't say why, though..."

"He called you _The Boy Who Lived_," said Annabeth, frowning, "Does that sound familiar?"

The odd thing was that it did sound familiar. The title floated around his mind, making him think about areas of his life he couldn't remember. Too bad they were at the tip of his tongue but not quite there.

"Yeah, really familiar," Harry replied, "Plenty things do, but I just can't remember them. It's so frustrating."

"HEY, CUPCAKES!" yelled Coach Hedge, who appeared from below deck, grinning broadly with his baseball bat slung over his shoulder, "Kick any monster butt?"

"No, coach. No monsters." said Piper.

Coach Hedge snorted, "Hmph, _yet_, McLean. Give them time… give them time…" the group shivered. Talk about gloomy.

Harry was about to head downstairs for some food (that didn't remind him of old people) before Coach Hedge continued, "Oh, yeah, Ted: you have an Iris-Message waiting for you."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and Annabeth cut in, "Oh, that's how demigods communicate, Harry," then she glanced at the sky, "But how are we getting messages at this time of night?"

Coach shrugged, "Dunno', but this message ain't gonna' take itself," After Piper and Leo waved a goodbye for now, Annabeth, Harry and the coach headed downstairs. The satyr guided them to a brightly-lit room in the _Argo II_ that Harry hadn't seen before.

It was empty with no windows, except for a little fountain that was smack-bang in the middle: a jumping koi fish spouting water from its mouth. The dish of the fountain was littered with gold coins ('drachma', Annabeth had called them). Strangely, there was a huge amount of spray in the room, so much that Harry could almost make out the figure in the mist.

"Huh?" Harry said, dumbstruck. Annabeth gasped, before biting her lip and turning around to leave with the coach.

"I'll leave you two alone. Just talk like it's a video call, Harry."

They shut the door behind them. Harry narrowed his eyes more carefully – to his surprise, the image of a bright and sunny city appeared, as did the figure of Lou Ellen. But she was crying.

"Harry," she said breathlessly, with a red and tear-stricken face, "Luth is dead."

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Le gasp! What has happened now?!

Thank you for your support! I really appreciate it!

~ GD


	9. Nico Stalks a Tree All Day

GD is back! I felt a little guilty that I hadn't updated in a long time, so here it is! That, and my inspiration returned when I re-read this story and read some wonderful, inspiring reviews. :D I also watched Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone... and I cried. XD

My actual reasons stems from exams and revision. I still have an exam - next Thursday, but I thought I could spare a few hours and get this posted. If I ever go on haitus again, **check my profile for updates. **Alternatively, check my dA account, where I can post journals about this stuff. Username is gemini-by-nature. :)

Anyway, on with the chapter!

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

It was all over. I knew it was. I would be killed – or worse, expelled – then be sent to the Wizard prison, Azkaban, and have my face sucked off by Dementors (oh yeah, Hermione told me about those guys) for the rest of my wretched life.

I don't think I could have pulled a more convincing 'please don't kill me' face. The old man at the door, with bright robes of all colours and a long, white beard, just laughed.

"Oh, having some recreational time, are we?" Professor Dumbledore chuckled, pulling out his wand. He didn't seem at all phased by the fact that chairs and tables were broken, the walls had holes big enough for us to fit into and the room was now one giant bathtub, "That's good. With all this business going on, it's nice to see you all practicing your many talents."

Then his mischievous yet calm gaze fixed on me. It didn't harden, and he didn't glare, which I was expecting, "I see you've made some new friends, Mr Jackson," he said, smiling. I just gulped, glancing at the soaked Slytherins by the back wall.

"Uh, yeah," I lied, darting my eyes between my two friends. Hermione rose slowly from her hiding place and Ron shoved his wand quicker in his pocket than you could say _Flipendo_, "Yeah. Just friends. Um… practicing spells, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled again, "I can see. You've made quite the mess," he raised his wand, rotating it in a circular motion and speaking clearly, "_Reparo_!"

Suddenly, everything in the room started fixing itself. Mattresses re-stuffed with misplaced cotton. Smashed ink pots welded together. I had to duck out of the way of an incoming desk top that had somehow traversed halfway across the room from its legs. Even the walls filled in the cracks and the pipes stopped overflowing. The room, save the water, returned to the way we had left it before our duel began. We all moved onto the platform so that we no longer stood in one foot of water.

Dumbledore lowered his wand, and surveyed his work with a smile, "Wonderful. Hmm, now for all of you," I thought then we were totally busted, but instead, Dumbledore raised his wand again and muttered, "_Scourgify_!"

It was the same spell that Hermione used to clean Ron when I spilt orange juice on him, and it seemed to do the trick. Dumbledore removed any trace of water from our clothes. Only weird thing was: I wasn't wet to begin with.

"It seems I will have to see that Mr Filch removes the extra water. Now now, it's much passed the time you were in your common rooms." He narrowed his eyes, and instantly everyone knew that it was time to get going. Draco grabbed his robes and pushed passed me as he left.

"This isn't over," he hissed threateningly. I had a gut feeling that it was, though. Pretty sure he didn't want another surfing trip to the wall again. The rest of his gang glared at me as they left, and soon, only Ron, Hermione and I were left with Dumbledore.

"And you, young ones," he said, like he actually knew what happened here, "Off to your common rooms." We didn't need telling twice. Ron and I grabbed out robes and sped out after Hermione. The minute we were out of earshot of the room, Ron snickered.

"Now _that_ was bloody brilliant!" he said, grinning, "How in Merlin's name did you do that?"

"I don't know," I said honestly, "I just knew I could." It was an exhilarating feeling, being able to control the waters. They were under my power, and would do whatever I wanted it to do. But now, I felt exhausted. All that command had left me fatigued and sleepy.

"That was definitely a very obscure branch of magic," said Hermione knowingly, striding to keep up with us, "It might be a key to your past."

"Yeah," I said. Something was resurfacing in the oceans of my mind (pun completely intended). I had used it before to my advantage; that's how I knew how to control it, "I've used my water powers before."

"Well, you don't say," said Ron, rolling his eyes, "With effortless command like that, I'd say you'd definitely kicked butt with them, too."

Hermione shivered uncertainly, flicking her head around to check no-one was following, "We really need to find that book. I was going to check after I… er, _left_ the Great Hall, but I felt so angry that I decided not to out of spite," her frown deepened, "I _am_ really sorry. We should go first thing tomorrow morning."

"But tomorrow's the Hogsmeade trip," I said, with a small grin, "It's alright, Herms. The book isn't going anywhere and after all that duelling business I am totally tired out and I'm not getting up early just to go to the _library_."

Hermione just smiled slyly and stuck her nose in the air, "You make that sound like a _bad_ thing."

"Well, I'm not getting up," Ron said, scoffing. His general tone just made us all laugh lightly all the way back to Gryffindor tower. When we reached the common room, Hermione said the password, ("Mandrake sap!" Did that even exist?) and before anyone could question why we all looked a little dishevelled I treaded my way to the bedroom, washed and dressed like a ninja and fell flat on my bed to sleep.

=#=#=#=

Stupid dreams prevented me from having a peaceful night sleep. _Again_.

It was the cloud place again. Instead of running around like a lunatic like last time, I sat on a particularly comfy cloud and waited until the goddess showed up. She really took her time.

Not before long though, the lady appeared before me in a flash of dull light. Her robes still caressed her figure gently and her hair flowed like a river, but her face looked old and sickly. She donned a small smile but it couldn't disguise the amount of pain she seemed to be suffering.

"My time is limited-"

"As usual…" I quipped. She just smiled.

"I have a feeling you won't be the only one saying that tonight… Percy," she paused, probably for dramatic effect. If she really hadn't enough time you'd think she wouldn't do it, "You continue to do well, but it appears I shall have to borrow something from your friends."

I narrowed my eyes, "Like what?" Because if it was their closets then, no, that wasn't going to fly. The goddess smiled.

"You will see soon enough. Thank you for your co-operation."

"I'd be more appreciative if you told me who you were."

The goddess laughed, "I cannot say, for I fear that it may trigger too many memories. Good luck Percy, and do not forget," she began to brighten and I turned away, "Follow the signs."

And she exploded like a water balloon in my face.

=#=#=#=

When my eyes cracked open, it was morning. It was still dark, but the sun was just peeking over the furthest horizons. I adjusted the limited amount of light in the room; beside me, Ron was snoring away, drooling on his pillow with one arm flung over the side. Charming.

I sat up, rubbing my head. That dream had been weirder than the last one. Follow the signs? If they were going to be plastered in the hallways and painted neon, sure, I'd follow them. But it wasn't going to be that simple, was it?

My sleep, though, had re-energised my muscles, which had become as useless as potatoes with wigs after the battle with the Slytherins. Instead of sleeping for about another half an hour, I slipped out of bed and washed and dressed into a casual T-shirt and pants. Harry's stuff didn't really fit me too well – I was taller and wider (not fatter!) than him, so his sweaters stretched awkwardly around my body. I was definitely going to buy some new clothes in Hogsmeade today.

Silently, I rummaged through Harry's trunk. The unseen fabrics of his cloak tickled my fingertips as I grasped it and flung it over my shoulder. The idea of an invisibility cloak had totally confused me at first, especially when I looked like an idiot groping around for something that didn't exist in this light spectrum. Still, I wanted to go to Hogsmeade, and this was the way to go.

Ron had also said I should borrow something called a Marauder's Map. He had handed me a blank piece of parchment and I thought you had to draw on it or something, but you had to say the magic words (pun intended) for it to open: 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'.

When I had done this, inks surfaced and a fully-formed plan of Hogwarts seeped its way onto the page. Draco was in his dorm room and Nico was hovering around the library. I felt like a stalker, but it was awesome.

Hermione pointed out the way to the secret passage to Hogsmeade, telling me to avoid Mr Filch (who didn't appreciate cleaning the Charms classroom, by the way) and other teachers who always became unusually suspicious around these weekends. Still, I was invisible, which was surely going to help.

Ron woke up after I had fun poking him with my wand. He grunted, waving me away.

"Nnn, whatime isit?"

"Half-seven."

His eyes shot open.

"Merlin's beard! We're going to be late!" I'd figured that out since the rest of the boys had left for the Great Hall already, "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

I rolled my eyes, "I tried, Ron. Do you think I was poking you for _fun_?" Ron narrowed his eyes before jumping out of bed and ninja-dressing and washing, before both of use scurried to the Great Hall for breakfast.

After a scolding from Hermione and a delicious chocolate and banana crêpe with whipped cream, I watched with (fake) sadness as Hermione and Ron made their leave with the rest of the year plus the older ones. I would be meeting them at Honeydukes, but I tried to make it look like I wasn't seeing them for the rest of the day.

Sniffing dramatically, I grabbed a hanky from nowhere and waved them off, "I'LL MISS YOU GUYS! COME BACK SAFE AND SOUND! DON'T GET INTO TROUBLE!"

They just frowned at my poor acting skills. I regret nothing.

I waited a good amount of time before they disappeared into the distance. They were nothing but miniscule ants, and, the second they were, I ran all the way to the common room and slunk into my dorm.

Of course, no-one was there. It was perfect.

From the trunk I produced Harry's Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, as well as my wand from my pocket. I threw the cloak on and activated the parchment; hopefully Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs wouldn't cause any unwanted encounters with Snape.

I traced my finger along the parchment to the secret passage, wand in mouth and holding up the cloak and map with my hands, and began my descent down the stairs in the common room again. I had a few close calls with some second-year students who were avidly talking about an upcoming Quidditch match – whatever that was.

I carefully pried open the portrait door without attracting too much attention and scuttled down the stairs, power-walking all the way to the designated corridor without breaking a sweat (although I did almost crash head-first into a wall because I kept glancing down too much).

Hogwarts had a confusing layout at best, but their décor was worse. I reached the place Hermione instructed me to go to – a really, _really_ ugly statue of a one-eyed hump-backed witch. It put any ballet troll to shame.

I gulped – the statue stared at me, like it was alive and disapproving of my actions. It was creepier that she only had one eyeball boring into my soul.

The corridor was empty, "_Dissendium_," I whispered. Ugly the Witch shuddered before whirring to life – the hump-back opened up (gods, that sounds weird) to reveal a dank and miserable-looking slide shielded from view. Just like the map showed.

Why did all 'secret passageways' have to be so ominous? This one looked like it lead straight to Tartarus, for Zeus' sake. I almost turned back before I remembered that I was going out to have fun. And I needed fun. With a grumble, I neatly folded the Map, slotted it in my bag and slid down the passageway into the darkness.

=#=#=#=

I tried not to think about the dankness of the tunnel. My shoes squelched into a kind of mud I didn't want to know about and there was this thick musky smell that resembled an old peoples' home. It really was disgusting.

Nonetheless, I came out whole on the other side, gently pushing up the trapdoor exit. So much light flowed into my eyes I had to squeeze them shut. When I opened them again, I had adjusted; I was smack-bang in the middle of a wooden warehouse where the shelves were laden with colourful boxes and jars full of candy and chocolate. Honeydukes.

I scanned around for any people. The last thing I wanted was to be caught before I'd even left the sewer, although the smell probably should have attracted some attention. Careful with the cloak, I pushed open the trapdoor, crawled out, and shut it again. The Marauder's Map had lost trace of my location, which was a good start.

Almost bumping into a shelf, I navigated my way through the storage room, resisting my burning temptation to try the candies on show. At one point, I saw a delicate blueberry drop that was so enticing it practically called my name.

Ron and Hermione, I could see, were standing awkwardly outside of the shop – Hermione holding a modest paper bag while Ron had an entire box full. When I joined them outside of the shop, I listened into their conversation.

"-going to carry that all the way to the castle," said Hermione, doubtfully, as she glanced at the box in Ron's hands, "I'm sure it's heavy."

Ron snorted, pushing out his lips in pride, "It's not that heavy, Hermione. I'm pretty strong, you know." I couldn't resist a grin; he was trying so desperately to sell himself to Hermione but it really just sounded odd. She just frowned more in return.

"Right," her voice dropped into whispers, "Where is Percy? He should be here by now."

Ron, too, lowered his tone, "I'unno. Maybe he chickened out?"

"Yeah, right," I said, causing both of them to jump and for Ron to drop his box. The contents spilled onto the frosty ground as I snickered. Candy canes, toffee and even jelly-beans littered the floor as Ron sighed in frustration.

"Thanks for that," he said, bending down to replace them in the box, "You better be helping me."

"Good thing you showed, Percy," Hermione smiled, eyes darting around because she had no idea where I was standing, "We were wondering what took so long." She also knelt down to help fill Ron's snack supply again. I did so too, although it was funny, because it looked like the items just jumped into the box themselves.

"Me? Chicken out? No way," I chucked some liquorice wands inside, "The passage here was a bit gross, though. Considering they haven't been used all that often, it doesn't surprise me."

"Yes, it's not ideal, but that's what you get for sneaking in," it was like some painful and creepy form of karma. I decided not to comment, chucking the rest of Ron's sweets into the crate. Once he had got over his obvious lack of pride, we hustled around Hogsmeade for a bit.

First stop was the clothes shop (Gladrag's Wizardwear – Glad they weren't rags) – finally, I managed to find some robes and casual wear that actually fit me. Ron had decided to be a jerk about it.

"Here, this is your size."

"… This is _extra large_."

After I'd bought a lovely new set of clothes, which Ron had to carry since I couldn't balance a cloak and a bag at the same time, we visited Honeydukes again, where I bought a truckload of sweets, Scrivenshift's Quill Shop for Hermione, Dogweed and Deathcap for Herbology supplies, and Spintwitches, because Ron needed a new pair of arm guards for some sport game. We even passed a shop called Ollivanders – apparently where I could buy a new wand.

"Are you kidding me?" I said. Hermione frowned.

"This branch is particularly more expensive than the one in London," she noted, regarding the shop with coldness, "They know there is a school here and they know students will break their wands. That, and it's not run by Garrick Ollivander himself, who is much better and choosing wands to try."

"Unless you've got the money to spill on a new one?" I had no money to my name, so I just quietly tagged along and inwardly dealt with my wand turmoil.

We had tons of fun messing around with people who didn't know I was there. We caught Draco Malfoy and his cronies milling around Zonko's joke shop. Naturally, I went over and pulled on their hair.

"Goyle! Stop it!" Draco yelled.

"It wasn't me!" Goyle protested, glaring and Crabbe. Hermione and Ron stood a distance away, laughing.

Before long, though, students were due to leave in an hour. We hustled our way to the local bar – The Three Broomsticks Inn. Ron and Hermione had to leave a massive gap for me to walk through, just so no-one bumped into me by accident.

Hermione found a cosy spot by the fireplace while Ron went and ordered some Butterbeers.

"Herms," I whispered to her doubtfully, "I'm a minor. I shouldn't be drinking."

"Oh, there is no alcohol in Butterbeer," she responded with a smile, keeping her voice down low so it didn't look like she was conversing with herself, "It's completely legal to drink. Don't worry." The name is so misleading – why not Butterpop or something far more child-friendly?

In retrospect, I find it funny how I was more worried about illegally drinking than being expelled for going on a trip I wasn't meant to go on.

Ron came back with two jugs of this thick and frothy golden-coloured liquid. He placed one in front of Hermione, who leaned forward and smiled even more brightly.

"Thank you, Ron," she said, inhaling the sweet smell of the drink. Ron sat opposite, placing his jug on the table too. I thrust my invisible head over, whiffing a scent of the stuff.

"Yuck, it smells disgusting," I remarked. Ron jumped, looking around his glass frantically.

"Do you mind?" he hissed, swatting the air uselessly as retreated back to a comfortable sitting position.

"Nope."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Would you like to try some of mine? It's actually rather nice," she asked, pushing the glass over to where I was sitting. I couldn't resist a glance at Ron's face, who looked green with envy. His crush had asked me whether I wanted some of her drink. Well, his fault – he could have asked for a third Butterbeer.

"Don't mind if I do," I replied, quickly hiding the glass under the cloak and trying a sip. A sweet, butterscotch flavour massaged my tastebuds as a creamy froth melted along my tongue.

"It's gross," I replied, grimacing and pushing it back to Hermione, who looked surprised.

"Most people I know love Butterbeer."

"Percy's weird, that's why," snorted Ron bitterly, taking a huge swig of his drink and replacing it on the table with a little force.

"Hey, Ron," I said, jovially, "Is the glass half full or half empty?"

His expression changed to dumbstruck as he stared at the glass, "What? It's obviously half empty."

"I think it's half full."

Hermione heaved a sigh, "You're both wrong – half is full of liquid and the other half is air," she shook her head in dismay, "Boys…"

"Well, well, well! Look what we have here!" Our light a quite hilarious conversation was pierced by the arrival of two ginger-haired boys – twins – who appeared older than us. Their smirks just said it all as they leaned casually on the table.

"Fred, George," Ron replied glumly, "What do you want?"

"Hello, Fred, George," Hermione greeted with much more pleasantness, glancing nervously back at the invisible me next to Ron, "How're you doing?"

"See, Ron, that's how you say it," said Fred. Or was it George?

"Yeah, you could really do with some courtesy lessons."

Ron just glared at them, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Anyway," began Ginger Twin One, "That's not why we're here."

"Nope – there's something we thought you might like to know," said Ginger Twin Two, "You know Ginny's best friend forever, Taco dee Angel?"

I had to stifle a laugh. So I wasn't the only one on this planet who thought he sounded like a type of food!

Hermione seemed less impressed, "You mean Nico di Angelo?"

"Yeah, that one," said the first Ginger Twin, grabbing Ron's drink and having a sip before he could argue, much to Ron's chagrin, "We saw him skulking around the Shrieking Shack just a while ago – with Ginny."

Ron almost choked, "What?!"

Ginger Twin Two grinned, "Thought you ought to know – since you're the protective older brother that you are."

"The Shrieking Shack is dangerous!" Ron announced, as if the party didn't already get that from the shady name, "What the hell's he doing there?"

"Ron, calm down," Hermione almost instructed, looking to the twins for assistance, "Did they go _into_ the Shrieking Shack?"

The twins looked at each other. One glance and I knew they were just playing games on their little brother. But it was so funny to watch I decided not to intervene.

"Nah, they didn't go in. The Whomping Willow kinda' put a stopper in that leak. Plus, there was some freaky screams," said Ginger Twin One, still carrying a teasing grin, "But I bet they were thinking about it. They probably wanted a private place to snog."

Ron shot up quicker than a bullet. His ears turned as red as his hair, and his fingers clenched so hard in his palms I thought he'd start bleeding. He was so protective of his sister I couldn't even comprehend it. Wasn't she a year younger than us? Surely she could handle herself and choose whoever she wanted to exchange saliva with?

"I'm going to stop her," he exclaimed, marching from the table before anyone could protest. He even left his crate behind. Fred and George nodded wisely at Ron's decision to rescue her.

"You gonna' finish that?" called one of them, as they replaced themselves with Ron on the seat (leaving me squished in-between a wall and Ginger Twin One-slash-Two). Hermione blinked uncertainly, bewildered as to why Ron was in detect-and-destroy mode, but followed him out and completely forgot about me.

"Ron, wait!" she called, grabbing her things and rushing to catch up.

I sat there, unsure of what to do. That was a legendary prank. Ron's reaction was hilarious. Fred and George snickered as they clanged glasses together.

"Did you see his face? Priceless!" said one of them, with an irreplaceable smirk.

"He's going to kill us later when he finds out, you know," said the other, also smirking. There was a short pause before:

"Totally worth it!"

Knowing I couldn't sit here for the rest of my life and listen to conversation about Nico's resemblance to Snape, I slipped under the table and crawled my way out. I did hit into the table leg and their feet a couple of times.

"What the-?" said a member of the Ginger Twin crew, as my head emerged from under the table. The cloak had got caught on my foot as I stood up.

"Sorry!" I said, grinning mischievously at their horrified faces as I replaced the cloak over myself and ran outside. The street was bustling with witches and wizards of every calibre, all wearing bizarre headgear. It was only until I saw a flash of brilliant orange that I knew which way to go.

Hermione had managed to catch up to Ron, but he wasn't stopping anytime soon.

"-slimball Slytherin!" I caught him say, as he waded through the throngs of people. Hermione had to fast-walk to keep up the pace.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron! Nico seems perfectly nice!" she said exasperatedly, "And for one thing, your brothers are the biggest liars in the world! How do we know they're telling the truth?"

Ron frowned, "We don't, but I have to make sure."

"Thanks for waiting for me, by the way," I piped, scaring the skins off the pair once again.

"Holy cricket, Percy! I'm so sorry!" said Hermione, turning her head and glancing everywhere. I poked my hand from my invisibility cloak and waved.

"It's cool," well, actually, it wasn't, but that was beside the point, "They were joking, Ron, I overheard them. Don't get your knickers in a twist… Actually, they didn't exactly say he wasn't going to be there…"

Ron stopped, causing both Hermione and I to crash into his back, "I can't ever tell if they're joking around or not! C'mon, Hermione, do you ever remember Ginny palling around with this guy?"

"Well, no, but-"

"You've got the best memory amongst everyone I know of. There's no way you'd forget Ginny's friend, or snogging-partner, or whatever. I just think it's really weird how everyone but us knows who this guy is and Percy has some recollection of him where he's lost his memories."

He did have a point. Nico's appearance had not only seemed completely normal to everyone but us three, but also had sent me into a wild memory-probing frenzy. Something about this kid really didn't sit right with any of us and it was something that needed dire investigation.

That, and Nico making-out with Ginny was, quite frankly, disturbing. And I had no idea why.

Hermione contemplated this too. I could practically see her brain cells whirring within her knowledgeable head. She caved.

"Alright. But you do realise, if this is just an elaborate prank to steal our Butterbeers, they are going to tease you for it?"

Ron nodded, "Oh, I know. If it is, I'll kill them."

=#=#=#=

On the way to the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack, the two Gryffindors explained to me what they actually were. It was clear by their disapproving faces that they had bad experiences with such places, especially Ron.

"The Whomping Willow is an evil tree that is alive and will kill you if you come near."

"Oh. Sounds pleasant."

Hermione lacked anything more to add so left it at that, "And the Shrieking Shack is a, well, shack, supposedly the most haunted place in the whole of Britain. It received its name as shrieking and screaming that could be heard on certain nights. It's only entrance is located by the roots of the Whomping Willow," she paused to think, "I can't imagine why on earth anyone would want to go there. It's hardly an ideal snogging spot."

"It's hardly an ideal _anything_ spot," corrected Ron, who shivered. I wasn't sure whether it was because of merely thinking of the shack, or just the cold.

"Well, if he wanted to get a little comfy with Ginny he'd want privacy, right? What's more private than a haunted shed?" I added unhelpfully as we trekked back up the castle.

Ron was still unconvinced, "But she knows about our days at the Shrieking Shack. Harry discovered his god-father was a dog and our DADA teacher was a werewolf. Snape got beaten up – well, actually, that was kinda' a good thing – and I found out my rat was a spy for You-Know-Who!"

"Harry's god-father is a _dog_?" I said incredulously, mostly ignoring the rest of it.

"No, and yes – oh, it's a long story," said Hermione, "Remember we told you about Sirius Black? He could turn into a dog."

Well, it was a much more pleasant image than what I had in mind.

As the castle loomed into view so did that of a ginormous and fat tree that lingered around the edge of Hogmeade. It was jet black, rather frumpy, and swayed in the wind. Apart from it looking like something out of the Saw movies, it didn't look so threatening.

"That's the Whomping Willow," said Ron, pointing as if I couldn't see it. If you squinted, you could just make out a small figure, milling around the tree but not too close so that the branches didn't have a go and ripping him to pieces.

"Is that Nico?" Hermione glared into the distance. My eyesight was just good enough to define the features of the dark Slytherin boy, who looked less than pleased.

"Merlin's beard, Ginny better not be in the Shack!" Ron was in a jog now, muttering curses of all kinds that I couldn't understand (wizards and their funny words…). When Nico di Angelo spotted us, he looked a mixture of relieved a nervous, pushing his jet black hair from his eyes.

As usual, Ron didn't count his chickens before they hatched, "Where's Ginny?!" he yelled at the boy, who met him with a raised eyebrow.

"Er, in your common room? I don't know," he said, worriedly glimpsing at the tree as we approached. Hermione followed his gaze.

"What's wrong?" she asked, also staring at the still tree.

"I… I don't know how to explain it, but…" he began, rather mystically, "But I can feel a strange presence in there." He pointed at the entrance to the Whomping Willow.

"And I can occasionally hear… weird sounds…" That was the icing on the cake – this place was creepy and I didn't like it. The wind suddenly felt colder against my skin.

"And you're sure Ginny's not in there?"

Nico sighed.

"For Merlin's sake, yes. I would have seen her. I've been here all day."

Now that the boy mentioned it, I could feel something strange in their too. My senses were tingling uneasily, like nausea, in my stomach. I couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something strange going down in the Shrieking Shack.

"I think we should take a look," I said, startling the three of them, more especially Nico, who didn't know I was there.

"Percy? Where are you?" I took off the cloak off my head and revealed myself, glancing back and forth at the shack. I quickly tied it around my shoulder so that my body appeared invisible.

"How are you…" he trailed off, deciding it was better not to ask.

"I can feel something weird too; you're not alone," the boy looked relieved at me saying this, although it only seemed to encourage more confusion in Hermione and Ron.

"Percy, you can't be serious! We've had such bad experiences there! The Shrieking Shack is the most haunted place in Britain!"

"You've mentioned that – twice," I drew my wand, and slowly crept towards the tree, my eyes never leaving its bony branches, "There's something in there and my gut is telling me to go check it out."

"Your gut's bloody mad," supplied Ron unsupportively, "You don't even know how to get in there."

Just then, a strange and raspy cackle echoed throughout the plain. We all looked at each other in horror as the evil laugh resonated from under the Whomping Willow – the entrance to the Shrieking Shack. It lasted merely a few seconds, but it was enough to convince me something was there that wanted to eat my face.

"We have to go check this out. That's not something you hear every day."

"It's certainly not any creature I recognise," said Hermione, drawing her wand and sneaking closer to the tree. Without warning, Ron overtook me, wand drawn. In a practically suidcidal attempt, he ran head-first towards the tree roots. It reacted with malice, shifting suddenly and bending over to knock him flat. Luckily, Ron managed to just jump out of the way, and poke at a knot in the tree. Suddenly, it stopped trying to mutilate him.

"Safe," he called, as I tiptoed to the entrance.

"That was awesome," I said, grinning.

"Thank you," Ron beamed as Hermione waved it off.

"How can we be sure your instincts are right?" she said, glancing at the entrance with distrust.

My grin turned smug, "My instincts told me I could control water." Hermione shut up.

"You what?" said Nico disbelievingly, "Merlin, that must be a rare branch of magic…"

I slipped into the entrance first. It was dark, dank, and no more appealing than the secret passage had been. I had to crawl – army-style – down a long and narrow tunnel which smelt of rotten socks. While I was down there, I could feel the presence of something else – something powerful, more formidable, and most definitely not nice – growing stronger in my stomach. Anxiety was filling my insides like pouring a glass of Butterbeer but I didn't let it faze me.

Ron was on my tail, shuffling along and occasionally grunting about how unpleasant this experience was. Considering we were about to fight something pretty evil, he had all the right to complain. My burning desire and sheer curiosity was the only thing that kept me crawling.

Eventually, the cackles became so loud not even Hermione could doubt me. I reached the exit of the tunnel, appearing in a rusty, old and rundown shack in the middle of Hogsmeade. The Shrieking Shack.

Harry's wand was clasped firmly in my hands, pointing at every door where this creature could be. Ron stood to my defence, and soon we were joined by Hermione and Nico.

"I don't like this," Ron said, as I edged forward towards the corridor. It was empty, with the windows boarded up and darkness pouring through the cracks. But the evilness was emanating from there.

Suddenly, a voice startled us all.

"Help me!" yelled a girl, from down the corridor, "Help me, please!"

We recognised it instantly. It was Ginny.

"Oh my god, Ginny!" Ron yelled, sprinting down the corridor without saying another word. Wuth equally horrified faces, Nico, Hermione and I followed suit.

"But, how?!" Nico said distressed, "I watched the entrance all day!" Nobody questioned it as we ran behind Ron.

"Quick, please!" screamed Ginny. We could hear her tone stained with sadness.

The group of us arrived at a larger wooden door that the ginger boy didn't hesitate to throw open, "Hang on Ginny, we're-" he froze mid-sentence. His face turned pale with fear.

Instead of little Ginny Weasley curled helplessly in a corner, who we were all expecting, there was a freakish and bony woman – so pale, she could be compared to snow. Her eyes were a sickening blood red in colour, and her grin wicked with mocking.

"Help, help," she cried in Ginny's voice, laughing with malevolence – the same laugh we had heard earlier, "You children have been very, _very_ naughty indeed!"

With one spring did she lunge towards us, fangs bared and claws unleashed. I threw myself out of her way, rolling into an uncomfortable heap of blankets. Soon, she had rounded up my friends and backed us into a corner.

"What the bloody hell are you?!" Ron cried, threateningly pointing his wand at the creature, "A vampire?!"

The creepy lady seethed with annoyance, "A vampire? How dare you compare me to such a pathetic, weak, sparkly kind of monster!" she backed us into a corner, "I am a spirit! I keep naughty children in line-"

As I stared at her red eyes, suddenly, memories flooded back to me from unknown places. Information on this creature revealed itself in my head and I remembered things I hadn't thought I'd ever know about. This woman was as dangerous as she made herself out to be.

"You're a spirit, you bite children; you, the consort of Hecate," I stated, recalling random facts I remembered, "You're cousins to the vampires – a Mormo." I pointed my wand and glared at her with equal hatred.

The Mormo cackled, "Oh, so you have heard of me? How pleasant. And you, Percy Jackson, I know _plenty_ about."

And then, she attacked.

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

BOOM and the suspense.

There's very little information about the mormo on the interwebs so I took to manipulating some of the already known stuff. Mainly, she may be vampiric in origin, punishes bad kids and is Hecate's companion. Sorry if that doesn't float well with you.

Anyway, I just wanted to say infinite thanks for your continued favourites and reviews - even while I was away! I can't say when the next chapter will be (definitely not until after this week) but until then, I hope you're satisfied!

Also thanks to XxXAkumaNoTenshiXxX for being awesome. B)

Thanks, as always,

~ GD


	10. The Gods Blow Wind

Zap, GD returns! I'm so sorry, I was hit by a really bad writing block! But, I think my mojo has return now (although the exams ar fast approaching... again .). Thank you for the favourites, alerts and reviews! I really appreciate it beyond infinity.

If you don't remember what happened, here's a quick recap: Harry has a dream with a goddess, who says she needs a replacement. Then he wakes, meets the Coach (who nicknames him Ted due to his pyjamas). They arrive in Augusta, Maine, go to their library, be redirected to Maine Uni for a poetry competition, meet Nostradamus Trelawney and go to his rather cushy house. He then tells them of a threat that will affect them. Then, Harry receives an Iris-Message from Lou Ellen stating that Luth Laudimus is dead. Le gasp!

Anyway, you've waited long enough. On with the show!

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

"Luth is dead," Lou Ellen repeated the words, fresh bouts of tears flowing freely down her red face. Harry didn't know what to say - he'd hardly talked to his supposed half-brother but he didn't deserve death, and the trouble it caused Lou. She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled, "I was supposed to contact you with a nice message, ask how your quest was going, but this news is just-..." She trailed off, stifling a huge sob.

"Lou, I'm sorry," Harry began, unsure how he could comfort her, "What happened? Are you unharmed?"

"Y-yes," she began shakily, "Yes, I'm fine; I'm a little injured but nothing to worry about... Luth, my friend and I were tracking the half-blood to here, Maryland. B-but we were attacked, by..."

She trailed off, fresh bouts of tears spilled from her eyes. Harry wanted to reach out and hold her shoulder, and comfort her, but he couldn't, since she was merely just a mound of spray that had collected into a figure-shape. Iris-Messaging messed with his head. For some reason, though, the concept of death was familiar to him. He was sad, of course, but not driven to tears; although it didn't help that he had only known him for a grand total of one day.

"If it's too difficult to tell me, that's fine-"

"No," she cut through, shaking her head with dismay, "No, you have to hear it. It was so unusual that I don't even think you'll _believe_ me."

She inhaled deeply before looking up, her bright eyes staring at Harry with concern, "We were wandering through Calvert Cliffs State Park, just r-relaxing after a hard day of searching, having a bit of fun… then, everything changed when a g-group of flying people attacked."

Harry couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. The idea of 'flying people' seemed so farfetched that the boy wanted to laugh and tell her to speak the truth. But her tear-stricken features it all - she wasn't lying.

"Flying _people_?" Harry said, who couldn't help but cock an eyebrow, "W-what?"

"T-they didn't even come near us, at all. But they had these... these _laser_ things. I don't know, but they were sh-shooting at us and... and we ran, we just kept on running. We reached the the cliff edge and… L-Luth got hit and fell..."

She let out a loud sob once again and Harry gave her a few seconds to compose herself.

"W-we couldn't see him once he fell. The flying people just left us alone after that. They… they just disappeared. We spent hours looking for Luth but we couldn't find him anywhere!" She clenched her eyes shut as the tears returned.

"What did they look like? Anything you recognise?"

Lou shook her head, avoiding his eye contact and trying to control the waterfall of tears, "Th-they were dressed head to toe in black cloaks with black hoods, but… it was out-stretched like a covering – the back of the cloak, that is. I don't know, I think they were sitting on something."

"I see…" Harry was still having difficulty picturing flying people, unrecognisable to him as well.

She glanced to her side, wiping her face, "Luth must have drifted into the sea... Oh gods, it's so awful! I feel so helpless!"

"Maybe he's alive," suggested Harry, hoping, for Lou's sake, that he was, but the brunette just shook her head.

"No, it's impossible. The water would have killed him by now if the... the _laser_ didn't..."

The big question on Harry's mind was: who in Merlin's name were these flying people? And what did they have against Luth? He wasn't the most pleasant person to be around but he was hardly worth the blood, was he?

"I just d-don't understand..." whispered Lou, finally wiping tears off her face, "I just don't understand why anyone would want to kill him..."

Harry had a thought, "Did he have any enemies?"

Lou shook her head, "No... Not that I know of... I know he and Alabaster - the person we're looking for - didn't get along too well. Al was the leader of the Hecate children during the Titan War and Luth didn't like his authority, but..." She faltered, thinking the same thing as Harry. Was this Alabaster kid even worth looking for and bringing back to camp, if he didn't like Luth and could have possibly killed him?

"B-but… if it _was_ Alabaster…"

"We don't know that yet," said Harry, instinctively reaching out. Of course, the spray just fizzled slightly and he quickly retracted his arm, "He may be innocent. We shouldn't pin it on him yet." The bespectacled boy talked from experience, having felt familiar when it came to the Blame Game. He definitely thought he had pointed fingers before when he was in the wrong.

"I just don't understand..." Lou repeated, bringing him back to reality, "They should have taken me instead. Luth never did anything wrong-"

"Don't say that," spoke Harry firmly, "He's... He's gone. You have to move on and find this person, okay, Lou? Luth would have wanted you to."

She just looked at him sadly. Her eyes lacked the same sparkle he had met her with and for a second Harry feared that he said the wrong thing.

"You're right," she said, taking a deep breath, "It's up to my friend and I now... I'm going to do this for Luth and I'm going to find out who those people were. He won't die in vain."

Harry thought that was very valiant of Lou. Although she had just suffered losing a loved one, she still managed to stand again. He respected this quality in people, and, since he'd always thought Lou was a naive, he began to feel she deserved this respect, too. He nodded, with a small smile.

"You will. I'm positive."

She smiled back, "Thank you, Harry," she took another deep breath, wiped the final vestiges of tears away and asked, "Now then, how is _your_ quest going?"

=#=#=#=

Harry had decided it was best not to skip any details. He relayed to Lou all the crazy experiences he had, so far, come across. Going to Maine's library and poetry convention at a university, watching a bunch of old people spout about how much they love peanut butter and jam, and then, meet the slightly bizarre Trelawney fellow who couldn't speak in anything but rhyme. Lou seemed to take it all in her stride, nodding and making comments where appropriate. Her sadness seemed to fade like the sun was finally rising.

"Sounds like an adventure," she said, smiling broadly. Her face was still red and blotchy, but she made a good job of hiding her weeping session for Harry's sake, "So you're going to Salem now?"

"That's the plan, although now we're a bit worried about whatever this guy was saying, about evil people coming out at night."

Lou nodded, "Yes, and I can see why. It won't be the flying people, at least – they attacked us in broad daylight."

That was slightly reassuring to hear, but he didn't say that out loud.

"Well, I'd better go," said Lou, checking around her, "We've been on here far too long and I'm sure you need a good night's sleep. Plus this is costing me quite a few drachmas."

"Alright, I'll be sure to contact you again soon," said Harry, to which Lou grinned again.

"It's been nice talking to you Harry. Thanks for cheering me up. Good luck, and see you later!" her image faded and fizzled out, and suddenly Harry remembered he was practically talking to water vapour. The spray died down, revealing the fountain behind again and the rest of the brightly-coloured room.

Harry stood there, not knowing what to do. His half-brother was dead because of a bunch of flying people? It seemed so farfetched, so ludicrous; the boy could hardly believe her story. She seemed so serious about it all… it was difficult to think she was lying.

How these 'people' were flying, was another question on Harry's mind. She described them as if they were merely floating in the air, unaided. How was that possible?

He figured though, since he lived in a world where gods, demigods and monsters existed, _anything_ was possible.

There was a quiet knock on the door. Harry spoke that it was okay to enter, and the blonde Annabeth poked her head around the door.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" she noticed that the spray had died and that Harry was no longer in Iris-Message, "Was Lou okay? She seemed very upset."

Harry shook his head, "No, she isn't – Luth is dead."

"What?!" she exclaimed, staring hard into the space where the weeping girl once was, "How… what?! How did he-"

"Lou said she was attacked by '_flying people'_," he made sure to put emphasis on the last part, in case Annabeth recognised the idea or concept, "They shot, er, '_lasers_' at him and he fell off a cliff."

"Oh my gods, that's awful," she replied, barely whispering, "I didn't know the guy much, but… I hope Lou is okay. Flying people with lasers, really?"

The blonde seemed just as surprised as Harry was. That wasn't a good sign, "That was her description. I was hoping you knew about something like that. Maybe it's a Greek mythological creature or something?"

She shook her head, scrunching up her face in confusion, "Nothing I recognise. Greek legends are about creatures, not people… That's so bizarre… Lasers, really?"

Harry nodded, and the duo stood in silence, thinking hard about this prospect.

"Well, there's nothing we can do for now," she smiled, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Let's just focus on getting to Salem, okay? You need some sleep."

Just then, Harry's stomach grumbled. They both couldn't resist a chuckle.

"And some food, too," he added, leaving the room with Annabeth and making their way to the mess hall.

=#=#=#=

Silence dawned on the _Argo II_ when news of Harry's half-brother's death spread about. Coach Hedge looked remorseful. Piper looked distraught. Even Leo couldn't crack any jokes.

"Aw, man, that sucks…" he said, as the crew sat down at the table. The images of Camp Half-Blood flickered slowly in the background as food began to appear on plates, "I didn't even get to prank him."

Coach Hedge stood up again, holding up a tin can, "I say we toast this guy – he sounds pretty brave to have gone up against a bunch of levitating nutjobs."

For once, Annabeth agreed, "Yes," she raised her glass, "To Luth. May he have a pleasant journey in the Underworld." The team raised their glasses, which clanged noisily against each other, and drank their juice. All except Coach Hedge, who actually bit into his tin can.

"So," began Piper, reaching for the gravy boat, "Salem. What are we going to do about the 'threat'?" Leo straightened in his seat.

"If you ask me-"

"_No-one_ asked you," said the coach gruffly, "If there are monsters up there, we'll just give 'em the ol' one-two and it'll be happy sailing the rest of the way."

Annabeth shook her head, "It's not that simple. Think back to the prophecy: _mired by misfortune during your flight_. If this is the same threat that Nostradamus was talking about, we have a problem."

"What does _mired_ even mean, anyway?" asked Leo.

"_Mired_: swamped, overwhelmed, overcome, anything like that."

"_Overwhelmed with_ _mis _– … oh." Harry felt tense. They were flying in the air and Trelawney was waffling on about a sky-high threat? It hardly made sense but it made enough to see that they were in danger.

"Maybe we can avoid it," said Harry, looking at all the people in the room, "This is a boat, too, right? We could sail to Salem."

"Festus can fly us there in half, maybe even quarter of the time," said Leo. Annabeth nodded her head firmly.

"Yes, and we need all the time we can get," no doubt she was referring to Percy's disappearance, and the room went silent, "Besides, you can't avoid prophecies. The steps you take to evade a prophecy always lead you closer. It would be pointless."

"Well, aren't we all optimistic about this?" said Coach, taking a huge bite of his second Coke can before chewing quickly and swallowing, "So what, we're gonna' be '_mired by misfortune_'. The prophecy doesn't end there, does it, cupcakes? That means we'll live."

Everyone looked at him. It was a rare moment when Coach Hedge actually said something that had no connection to slaying monsters.

"Well," he continued, "I'll live, because I'm not going to mope around all day sobbing over some silly destiny. I'm going to slaughter any monster that tries to stop me!"

Coach's positive speech didn't seem to be working all that well.

"Right. Coach can take first watch then?" offered Leo jokingly.

Coach suddenly looked horrified, "Woah, woah, Valdez-"

"Excellent idea, Leo," said Annabeth, who seemed to miss Leo's attempt to lighten the mood, "Coach, if you could take first watch, that'd be great. Piper, Harry and I need sleep, and I'm sure Leo is tired, too."

The Coach just grumbled about not getting any beauty sleep, but he agreed, nibbling at his third can, Fanta, with disdain.

Once the crew had finished their evening meals, everyone was wished a good night (save the coach, who treaded his way upper deck, armed with a very threatening baseball bat). Harry did the same before making his way to his room, his mind still abuzz. Although he felt physically drained, thoughts were still floating around and he tried to grasp any recollection of his old life that he could.

Even after he had washed, dressed, and tucked himself in his comfy duvet, did Harry try to remember his past life: his friends and his family. Surely his parents were worried sick about him right now? If they had any sense, they'd have put out pleas for help on news channels or pictures in newspapers. His face would be plastered all over international television, police trying desperately to search for him. He wondered if his parents even _cared_.

Then there were his friends. Annabeth had the strangest effect on him – she really reminded him of someone he knew. He couldn't put a finger to face or name, but he hoped they were out there, still looking for him. Still hoping for his return.

Harry hoped he could get home soon, too. He thought about Percy, the practically unstoppable doppelgänger of his that had slayed many a monster in his lifetime – or so he had heard. Harry had been told a lot about this Percy Jackson fellow since his arrival here, and he hated knowing he was sort of his 'replacement' at camp. It didn't help that he had suddenly disappeared when Harry arrived, or that he looked just like him. The boy rolled over in his bed, wondering what Percy was doing – or whether, even, he was alive.

If he was thinking such thoughts about Percy, were his friends and family thinking the same thoughts about him too? Maybe they wondered whether Harry was still alive. Maybe they'd given up long ago. He hoped not – it pained him to feel so helpless when he couldn't remember a thing. If only a small detail, that would maybe jerk some of his other memories awake. But he just couldn't take that first step.

Or maybe his friends and family _knew_ about all this business? Maybe the last thing he had done was argue with his parents, and they sent him away. Maybe they wanted him gone? He felt hollowness in his stomach for the first time in the trip, as unintentional guilt began to fill the void. He really wished this wasn't the case, and that he'd soon have pleasant memories of his friends and family return to him.

At the same time, even if he remembered everything right here and now, he wouldn't abandon his current quest. Something dark was running around, causing chaos – it had got Percy, himself, and possibly Luth too, so Harry was going to do his best to help wherever he could. If anything, for Annabeth, who had come to his aid from the beginning – well, _after_ she'd judo-flipped him.

These thoughts still running rampant in Harry's mind, his eyelids became heavy and he eventually drifted off to sleep; a dreamless, goddess-less sleep.

=#=#=#=

When Harry woke up abruptly, he expected the ship to be under attack. He expected to be surrounded by enemies, ready to slaughter him and send him to their hell. He expected it to be dark outside, perhaps in the middle of the night, as they swarmed the ship in their attempt to hinder their quest.

Instead, Harry had woken up with a start, half of his body lying on the ground and the other half, in bed. The duvet was tangled in his legs and now his head throbbed uncomfortably.

He groaned, shifting himself onto the floor gently before standing up. There were no enemies ready to slaughter him and send him to their hell. He looked outside – the sun was just tinting the sky a pale blue colour, and there was no-one swarming the ship.

The intercom buzzed through the corridors of the ship, waking any unfortunate soul who had slept through the bad piloting, "Sorry!" Leo yelled, as Harry went to pop on his glasses, "There's heavy south-westerly turbulence at the moment! Kinda' threw me off a bit." If you listened carefully, you could hear Coach Hedge bellowing at Leo from afar, complaining about ruining his beauty sleep.

Harry groaned, now understanding why his head was hurting.

The time was precisely six thirty-nine on a November morning. The airborne ship was currently flying over a quaint city at a rather fast pace, so Harry didn't think this was their destination. Salem couldn't be too far off, though.

No interruptions during the night – surely that meant that there was no-one out for their heads? Either that or he had missed some action while he was asleep, but he highly doubted that he could sleep through a bunch of people – or monsters, whatever they were – kicking them to the ground and destroying their belongings. Then again, the journey was still young; Salem wouldn't surely be their final destination (and it wasn't – it certainly didn't fit a _country of grey_ in the prophecy) so there was still time for the god-haters to appear and grind their quest to a halt.

Washing and dressing quickly, Harry made his way to the top deck. The wind knocked into him like being hit by a baseball bat, and he struggled for a few seconds to keep his balance. Gripping the rail beside him tightly, he shuffled his way to the two people on the upper deck of the ship. Unsurprisingly, Coach Hedge was lecturing Leo on his poor handling of the _Argo II_. Leo looked mightily relieved when Harry made it over to the two.

"- do you think I pick up all the chicks, huh, cupcakes? Beauty like this is uninterrupted through the night-" he spotted Harry and nodded gruffly in his direction, "Mornin', Ted. See? You've even woken up the rookie."

Harry wanted to assure him that he was no rookie, especially since he woke up at this time on any normal day anyway, but decided it was better not to say this. Considering the almost-murderous look on the coach's face, he didn't want him to see him when he was 'ugly'.

"Good morrow, Harry," Leo said jokingly, "Sorry if you woke up. The force is strong here."

Coach Hedge just grumbled, "That was an awful joke."

Leo just snickered as the coach retired back downstairs, grumbling something about needing tin cans to survive.

"Ugh," said Leo randomly, as he quickly grabbed the wheel to stop it spinning uncontrollably, "Man, it stinks. Did you let something?"

"… What?"

"I think," began Leo again, darting his eyes left to right and grinning mischievously, "That someone broke wind."

Harry winced. Thank Merlin Coach Hedge wasn't around to hear that. He might have chucked Leo overboard. Harry also considered this. But honestly, he thought he'd heard worse.

To his rescue, Piper came bounding up the stairs, only to be cut short when the harsh gale almost blew her back down, her loose hair flying all over the place. She managed to make her way slowly over, clutching her baggy jumper like it was going to float away, and regarded the two boys with helplessness.

"It's so windy!" she complained, treading over to them carefully while Leo bit his lip to stop laughing, "Oh gods, maybe Zeus is angry, or something."

"Pfffffft," the Latino boy couldn't help himself, clutching his stomach with one hand and grasping the wheel with the other, trying and failing to keep his rapturous giggles under control, "Yeah, maybe old Zeus blew wind!" Neither Piper nor Harry were amused.

"Leo!" the girl chided with a frown, "You can't insult him in his domain!"

"I'm not insulting him," Leo corrected, "I am merely describing his job."

Before the conversation could take another turn downhill, and before Zeus had the mind to shoot them from the sky, Harry interrupted, "Er, where are we, exactly?"

"We've just past Aberdeen. It will take a few of hours, at _least_," Leo fiddled with a control panel before frowning, "But if this nasty wind keeps up, we may have to settle down for a while. I 'unno if the sails can take much more."

"Aberdeen?" Harry asked quizzically, "Aberdeen, where?"

Leo arched an eyebrow, "Aberdeen in South Dakota."

Harry nodded with understanding, forgetting the Scottish namesake city. If they could fly to Scotland that fast they would already be in Salem. A quick glimpse over the edge and Harry could see the city of Aberdeen now, thinning as they moved further away. It wasn't a busy city – not like New York – but still large enough to hold his own ground, arranged in neat blocks like many metropolises in America. Fields of green and brown grass enclosed the city while tiny estuaries wove around and through like thread.

It looked like a good enough place to stay for a little while, to wait out the disruptive winds. The _Argo II _had been in the air for a total of twelve hours now, non-stop. It was a miracle the ship was still flight-capable (even though, Harry had heard, it had been through some rough times during the uprising of Gaea). He wondered how much the sails could take with giving up on them altogether.

"Maybe it's a good idea if you put the ship down now," he remarked, "If the wind gets worse, you're going to find it more difficult to navigate."

Leo grumbled, juggling the idea in his head, "I'm not sure; I guess it would give me the chance to have a tinker at the sails, in case there is any damage. I don't think Annabeth will like the idea though." He glanced at Piper, who seemed to be in agreement with Leo's opinion.

"We've been in the air all morning, though," Harry said, "And if this wind keeps up we're going to be blown off course."

"We were on course until we reached here, y'know," with another jerk of the wheel Leo sighed, "And you're right – any worse I'm going to have to take her down."

"Alright, then take her down."

Annabeth's words rang through the strong winds, with an equally strong and confident voice. The two demigods plus Harry turned around, to see her standing there, feet rooted to the ground firmer than a tree and hair billowing around so much she looked like she was in a movie. Her knife was strapped to her belt.

"Listen," she began, making her way over steadily (Harry couldn't help but feel jealous on her superior balancing skills), "I know that _you _know I want Percy back, safe. We all do, right? I may want that to happen as soon as possible, but that doesn't mean I'm going to endanger everyone _else's_ safety while at it."

The blonde girl finally reached the three of them, a small smile on her tanned face, before she turned to Leo, "Land the ship if you need to, Leo. Don't let me stop you."

He hesitated for a few moments, staring at her to make sure she wasn't bluffing or joking. She continued to keep her genuine smile, though, to which he grinned back, "You got it!" Without any more words, Leo began prepping the ship to land, mashing random buttons and fiddling with gear sticks on the control panels.

Just as Harry relaxed on the railing, Annabeth reached to rub her head with a slight chuckle, "Yeah, definitely land it. I don't think my head can take another unexpected connection with the floor."

The group chuckled with her, as Leo yelled, "Festus, let's land this baby!"

=#=#=#=

The ship had parked itself just a walk-away from Aberdeen, nestling in a brown patch of grass as the gales threatened immediate take-down of the sails. It almost seemed worse now that they had landed, rather than better, as the howling increased and everyone struggled to keep their jackets and jumpers from parachuting them in a south-westerly direction. Harry had to make sure his own glasses didn't make a run for it.

But even as the there was no pity from the tempests, the crew of the ship gathered on the hull of the _Argo II_ to talk about the next plan of action, save Leo, who had already taken it upon himself to check everything was in working order before they took off again.

"I'm guessing we're just going to chill here until Repair Boy fixes everything?" spoke Coach Hedge, once everybody had gathered in the mess hall.

"Well, actually," began Annabeth, pulling out a scrap of paper, "I was hoping we could comb through the prophecy again." She took the opportunity to read it aloud as the coach rolled his eyes. Once she had finished, he immediately spoke up.

"We've been through it a thousand times already, cupcake. The prophecy ain't gonna' unravel itself in front of our eyes."

"I… I know," she said softly, staring at the slip with sadness, "But we must have done so, what, once as a group? And that was yesterday, during dinner. I think now that we're all settled into the quest and had a good nice sleep we may be able to throw some more ideas out there."

The coach snorted indifferently (probably because he had to take watch last night only to be abruptly woken up this morning), so Annabeth took this as a sign to continue.

"Alright, so, we know that our next destination is Salem. That Trelawney fellow _and_ the prophecy warned us about some 'dark force' hindering our journey. I guess we were all expecting the _misfortune_ to come last night."

"Prophecies don't happen to lie often, do they?" Harry asked, a little hope in his voice – only to have it crushed in the next second with the simultaneous shaking of all three present heads in the room.

"Never."

"Sorry Harry," Piper gave him a sympathetic smile, "They don't joke around."

Worth a shot, the boy supposed.

Annabeth continued, "So, when we get this _misfortune_, is another question. It could be when we take off again. It could be tomorrow, next week. Whenever it does come, we have to be prepared."

"But we don't know what we're preparing for," said Piper. The blonde sighed in defeat.

"Exactly."

The room filled with a silence and unease, as the words rang in the heads of everyone. Harry, sufferer of amnesia, contemplated them the most. If they were unprepared for whatever was lobbed at them, there was the chance that he'd never get his memories back, return home or Percy would never be found. The obvious solution was to prepare for _everything._

But the possibilities were endless. Harry had already seen and heard of creatures he thought only lived in myth and legend. If that was anything to go by, they could be _mired_ by anything, from minotaurs to mischievous spirits, winged horses to whimsical harpies. It seemed _impossible_ to be primed for an onslaught that seemed infinite.

Coach Hedge was in tune to Harry's thoughts, reading his expression like a newly-minted book, "Alright, let's prepare, then. What do we got? Two girls with knives, a boy that can shoot fireballs, a monster-slaying bat-swinging super-Saiyan satyr, and-…" he paused to think of something for Harry that didn't make him feel so useless, "-and a guy who's lost his mind and has minus skill with a sword."

"Thanks for that," retorted Harry.

"So, it's you we need to focus on. Don't wanna' bring the whole team down, do ya', Ted?"

He shook his head, suddenly realising that what the coach had said was right – he kinda' _was_ useless.

Holding Riptide was beyond his power, let alone fighting with it competently.

"Good, so you need to learn how to use that sword of yours. Maybe work on those noodles you call arms, too."

"But we need to get him a teacher," input Piper, "None of us can teach Harry how to use it when we don't really know ourselves."

Suddenly, Annabeth had an epiphany, grey eyes widening with a smile, "No, no, Coach is on the right train of thought here. We're heading to Salem, in North-West America. What else is in North-West America where we can find other sword-swingers?"

Then, Piper's face lit in excitement with the same idea, "Camp Jupiter!"

Annabeth smirked, "Exactly!"

Coach Hedge nodded his head, smugly, "Oh, yeah, I'm good."

"And look," Annabeth pointed back down at the second-last line of prophecy, "_With help and assistance a Roman will guide._ That could quite possibly be anyone from Jupiter."

"I'm _double_ good," said the coach.

But Harry could see a glaring flaw in this plan. Although it was nice of them to think of getting him a teacher (or possibly a trainer, if the coach had any say in it), what if it was too late by the time they reached Camp Jupiter? Salem was still a bit away, and they most definitely had to journey by air for at least another stretch. They could be attacked by whatever was out there before even the scent of another state filled their noses.

"There's a problem," Harry stated, puncturing the euphoria of realisation like popping a balloon, "If we're attacked before we reach Camp Jupiter. What then?"

Annabeth and Piper's smiles faltered and their happiness slunk back into the shadows, like Harry had remorselessly chucked bricks directly at their heads. Even Coach Hedge seemed mildly deterred, even if he never became too enthusiastic about anything.

"You're right," the blonde spoke, after a silent moment, "There's that."

The silence dawned upon them again. Not even Coach had anything to say that could brighten the mood.

Harry hated knowing he was the one everyone had to look out for, the burden, but he couldn't really help it. Having lost your memories – practically his entire life – it was difficult not to depend on others.

"But," he said suddenly, remembering something that happened back at camp, "I'm… I'm a son of Hecate, right?"

The three of them glanced up at him; Annabeth in particular had a curious expression on her face.

"And you saw me, Annabeth. I could levitate that plant pot. So, I don't know, maybe I could use… magic?"

The moment the words left his lips, Harry could feel his stomach drop with nostalgia. Why? His brain almost fizzled in frustration. He didn't understand why it seemed so familiar, why he felt this way when he remembered magic. He visibly scrunched up his face in annoyance, as Annabeth sat up.

"That could work too, actually," she said, mouth curling into a small, yet appreciative, smile, "Although what you did was lift something up – that's probably the easiest spell in the book. You're going to have to learn more advanced sorcery if you want to defeat monsters and… whatever's coming after us."

But they were back to the old question: who would teach him? This dwelled on everyone's minds without the need to voice concern. If no-one could teach him magic, how could he improve? He struggled so much with levitating the plant pot and the leaf that it seemed there had to be some sort of technique to it, leaving Harry needing some guidance. It didn't work either way.

Another thing the boy realised about himself was that he hated _not_ knowing. He wanted answers – _straight_ answers – without all this beating around the bush. Clenching his fists in vexation, he was about to bang his head against the table in the hopes that something would return, when the intercom buzzed.

It was Leo's voice, unmistakably, but he sounded somewhat… disturbed.

"Guys, you might wanna' come up to the quarterdeck."

Then there was a shriek of sadness, and the intercom clicked. Annabeth shot up.

"Oh gods, what's going on?"

=#=#=#=

The four of them had run up there quicker than a cheater on a treadmill. Annabeth armed with her knife, Piper with Katoptris, Coach Hedge in his battle pose with a baseball bat ready to knock some heads, and Harry with Riptide drawn. Harry's shoulders sank and a confused face rose as he inhaled the scene before him.

So, it was obviously windy, but it had become worse since their discussion in the mess hall. The sails seemed to be in tact – all perfectly normal.

Until you noticed a gangly, tall man, with questionable fashion sense and a head so bald and shiny that could make a cue ball jealous, clutching an exasperated Leo's leg and bawling his eyes out through his horn-rimmed glasses.

"… What am I watching?" said Piper aloud, unsure whether to be more hostile towards this new person.

"-a tragedy!" the gangly man was yelling, squeezing Leo's legs and causing the repair boy to yelp, "Banished, from my own home! It wasn't my fault, I'll swear it; it's the most awful thing!"

"There, there," Leo said awkwardly, patting the shiny head with a little distrust, "It will be okay."

"_Okay_?!" he sobbed back, "It won't be okay! I have to find this chicken before the banishment becomes… PERMANENT!"

And he was off on a fresh set of tears again. Leo cringed before spotting his friends. He pulled a face and shrugged, showing that he had absolutely no idea who he was and what he was doing. The four approached apprehensively, still armed with their respective weapons. Coach Hedge looked totally raring to go, but unfortunately for him, Piper spoke up.

"Who are you?"

The man stopped sobbing, to momentarily glance in Piper's direction.

"Why, only the god of the south-westerly winds, of course."

Harry sighed, lowering his sword. Did these guys like to pop up whenever they didn't want them too? Annabeth also realised he was no threat, sheathing her knife and frowning.

"You're Lips, then?"

He beamed, his face redder than a tomato and eyes wetter than the ocean, "The very one!"

"_Lips_? Pfffft," Leo couldn't help himself once again, a snort erupting from his grinning mouth, "What are your brothers called? Tongue, Cheek and Nose?"

"Close," replied Lips, ignoring the insult like he had been conditioned too, "It's actually Eurus, Argestes, Caicias, Skeiron-"

"Okay, okay, you have a lot of siblings," Piper said exasperatedly, stepping forward, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Didn't you hear me, Miss McLean?" he snapped suddenly, grasping Leo's leg even tighter, "I've been banished from the sky! Thrown out, cast aside! I can only cause intense gales within a short distance! I've been trying to get Zephyrus – god of west winds, by the way – to help me look for it, but no! He can't hear me because I'm too near the ground… BECAUSE I'VE BEEN BANISHED! I'm stuck to this city like gum under a table."

Leo cut in, "So it's you blowing wind?"

"Yep."

The repair boy snorted in laughter again, as Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"Okay, well, we need to get to Salem, and pronto. So if you could just-"

"NOOO!" he yelled dramatically, suddenly thrusting himself into the air and flinging his arms out, his cranberry-coloured suit flapping about in his wake, "I need assistance in my plight for acceptance. You're all half-bloods and a satyr! You can help me this chicken… it has to be buried around here somewhere!"

"Why do you need a…" Leo could barely fathom the words without breaking into hysterics again, "A _chicken_?"

Lips sighed, falling back to the ground and sitting on the floor, defeated, "It's a sacrifice humans make to banish me from the skies, all just because I killed a couple of grapes in my youth – pah!" He looked back at them, with the largest puppy-dog, pleading eyes ever, akin to a baby seal, "Please help me?"

Harry knew that if they didn't help this god in finding this… this sacrificed _chicken_, and reverse his banishment, they'd never get off the ground and into the air again. Not to mention Lips was a god, a would give them grief if they ignored his cries for help. Harry's mind wandered then, and Harry shivered, comprehending the fact that if a god had just called him a half-blood, perhaps it meant he was one after all.

"Alright, we'll help you," the boy spoke confidently over the howling winds, capping Riptide and attempting his most genuine smile.

Lips beamed at Harry, as Leo slowly edged his way back to the group, hoping that no god would _ever_ grab his legs again.

"Goody!" he said, clapping his hands in a childish fashion, as he threw an arm around Harry, "Let's all start searching then!"

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Well, I finished this chapter before Easter holiday end, something I made myself promise I'd do. Hope I did a decent job.

Many thanks to the wonderul madmad951 on deviantArt, who drew the gorgeous new cover art! SPAM THEM WITH LOVE or follow the link on my profile to view in all it's glory!

Thanks again for all the feedback! I really appreciate it! Next chapter... I have no idea, but I know the plot know, for certain. Look forward to Percy hopefully soon!

If you could all also answer the poll on my profile, I'd greatly appreciate it too.

~ GD

PS. Watched PJO: The Lightning Thief today, possibly why I feel inspired. WHO'S PSYCHED FOR SEA OF MONSTERS?!


	11. All Wizards have Weird Names

GD returns, after finishing her exams! I'm so hyped for SOM I can barely contain my PJO feels. I cosplayed Piper at my birthday party on Tuesday and I received a Hufflepuff scarf and a Time Turner as presents. Naturally, I'm totally all over this fanfiction again. XD

So, now that's out of the way, here is the long awaited chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

=#=#=#=#=#=

Without warning or hesitation, the Mormo lunged at us. We split like the red sea again, with me diving to the right into a pile of rotting, smelly wood. The invisibility cloak shrouded my body and confused her for a second, but she turned her attention elsewhere, to bear her teeth at a startled Ron.

"_Stupefy_!" he yelled, thrusting his wand at the ugly woman-creature. The red pulsing energy burst from the tip, knocking right into her stomach and sending her flying backwards.

Nico, from behind me, said, "Good shot!" He steadied himself from the broken remains of an old four-poster bed, and offered my headless body a hand up. I took it, also standing up to glare uneasily at the heap of broken pots that the Mormo had landed in. Hermione stood shakily, eyes never leaving the Mormo's frozen body.

"Is she dead?" Hermione piped quietly, obviously shaken from the encounter at the Shrieking Shack. Her wand pointed unrelenting at the Mormo mass, "I don't want to take any chances."

The pile shifted a tiny bit. All of us readied ourselves for another attack. But she was too quick.

In one swoop the Mormo had thrown herself at me like a rocket, pinning me to the ground. Her wicked grin was even worse in close-up view – every evil pore and bead of sweat was visible on her face and her jagged, yellow teeth glowed in sick delight.

"Hahah, little Perseus Jackson. You don't even remember who you are; yet you fight a lost cause!" she tried to take a chunk out of my neck, but I threw my neck out of the way and managed to avoid certain death. Nico launched a _Flipendo_ spell to shoot her backwards in somersaults.

"What do you want from me?!" I shouted, as Ron hauled me off the floor and Hermione stood guard to ward off any more unwanted assaults.

"Isn't it obvious? Your _life_!" she growled back, flicking her gaze from Nico to Ron to Hermione back to me, "I've heard that you've been very naughty… too naughty to see another sun!"

"I was hoping for something a little less cliché, but whatever," I retorted, taking a deep breath and throwing my wand arm up again. Nico scooted backwards, wand in hand, to attempt to knock her from behind. But she wasn't stupid.

Mormo snarled, "Tsk, just like my master describes you to be. Ignorant, foolish… _loyal_…"

"What?" But it was too late. She'd already sprinted towards Nico, fangs bared, before we could do anything about it. She knocked Nico's wand away without any trouble, left with a trembling little boy at her grasp, hand on throat and pushed forcefully against the Shack walls.

"Let me kill you or I will kill _him_!" The Mormo said, a wild cackle enveloping her stinging words. Nico struggled under her grip, but she wasn't letting go soon. The Mormo pointed an accusing finger at Hermione, "And don't try any tricks, missy. One wrong move and the boy gets it."

Nico continue to squirm under her grip, scratching at the wood hopelessly trying to injure her with his own strength. It was a no go. He started to gasp, trying to absorb the air as the Mormo kept a claw on his bare throat.

I gulped. So I guess this was it then. A pulse of anxiety coursed through my veins – I couldn't let him die for me. I wasn't about to let _anyone _die for me. I barely knew this kid – weird, slightly creepy and somehow familiar – but if it had been Ron or Hermione, I'd have given myself up in a heartbeat. There was no difference; at the end of the day, they were all people, all willing to risk their lives for me.

I dropped Harry's wand and put my hands up, as a sign of surrender; the Mormo's smile widened. Hermione and Ron looked horrified as I slowly stepped across to her.

"Alright, you win. Let Nico live."

The Mormo loosened her grip on Nico's throat, causing him to drink the air desperately.

"Come closer so I can end this now," she hissed, licking her lips in a gross way, "And the boy and your friends will live."

I inhaled deeply. Nice knowing you, Percy.

My plight for peace was suddenly cut short but the words, "_LUMOS SOLEM_!"

Ron's voice pierced the deathly silence, as a pleasant ray of sunshine erupted from his wand and shined brightly on me, Nico and the Mormo. She howled, immediately releasing her captive to shield her eyes and skin. She retreated back to the wall, trying to shield all of her exposed parts with her ripped cloak. I took the opportunity to grab Nico and throw him behind me, since he was still guzzling the air like it was gold.

"Just as I suspected," said Ron cockily, moving closer to the Mormo with newfound bravery, "You're allergic to sunlight, just like your cousins. You can't escape this one."

But the Mormo cackled. She continued to shield herself but her wild eyes were just as bright and not at all outshined by recent events.

"Hah, you think I am exactly like my cousins? Imprudent wizard… I don't like sunlight, but it doesn't mean I can't _survive_!"

She swiped forwards, knocking Ron's wand away next to her, where Nico's wand also lay helpless, and dared to take another step forward. Ron scrambled backwards to join Hermione and I.

"Hermione… have you got any other ideas? If sunlight can't harm her-" he was cut off as the Mormo headed towards them again.

"_Stupefy_!" I yelled, hoping to buy more time. Luckily, the wand obeyed my command, and Mormo-madwoman flew backwards into the pile again and shuddered as the effects of temporary paralysis settled into her fibres. But she only started to stand again.

"Yeah, any magical epiphanies would be great right about now!" I said, looking back at Hermione who was blank-faced, wracking her brain. There had to be something that could defeat this thing; if sunlight and general offensive spells didn't work, what did? "Anything?!"

Hermione slowly shook her head, "I-… I don't know."

"Thoughts…" muttered a weak, raspy voice from behind them. Nico was rising shakily, still trying to catch his breath, "Happy… thoughts…" he managed to utter, much to mine and Ron's confusion.

"Happy thoughts?"

Suddenly, lightning struck Hermione's mind.

"Oh my Merlin, the Patronus Charm!"

Mormo was back on her feet, more eager to spill blood than a hungry vulture. She bore her teeth again, unrelenting as she made towards us.

"Quick, Percy! Together!" Hermione yelled. I understood what she meant, and although perturbed, thrust my wand up again and yelled in perfect unison.

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

I thought hard – focusing on happy thoughts. I hadn't many to pick from, but beggars couldn't be choosers. I remembered discovering that I had magical potential, the moment I knew I was no longer the 'dud wizard' highly believed to be amongst my peers and teachers. And the time that I had defeated Draco using a surge of water powers came to mind also. That was pretty wicked.

Then, another thought ruptured my thoughts. I didn't remember the details too clearly, but the image was so vivid I couldn't let it go. I was in a dark place… It was murky and visibility was at an all-time low, yet I wasn't fazed. In fact, I remember being delighted, euphoric, so ecstatic words couldn't describe this insane feeling I was experiencing. A girl, a girl whose appearance escapes me, wrapping herself around me and kissing me. She was just as happy as I was, both in our private, blissful world where nothing else could go wrong.

The resulting memory caused a huge surge of power to course through Harry's wand, and while I'd done an _Expecto Patronum_ charm before, it had never been this successful. A stallion with wings, wispy yet strong, freed itself from the confines of the wooden wand and galloped towards the Mormo, remorseless.

Hermione's Patronus, an otter, joined the Pegasus it it's flight – nowhere near as elegant can I just say – as the Mormo froze in her place. She became paler at the sight, throwing out her hands in a surrender-like fashion.

"No!" she wailed, but as the two Patroni collided with her body, encasing her in white light, she failed to voice her cries any longer. I had to shield my eyes, it was so powerful, but my ears were still in action. I could hear an odd fizzling sound, coming straight from where the Mormo had been standing. The sound eventually faded with the light.

When it was safe to look again, the only thing left was an unsavoury pile of dust.

"B-bloody hell…" Ron was the first to break the uneasy silence that had followed, as the four of us let the recent event seep into our memories. Trust him to say something like that.

Hermione eventually lowered her wand, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves. From what I'd heard, the three of them – Harry, Ron and Hermione I mean – had been on blood-curdling stomach-twisting adventures already, but I suppose it was no excuse for being afraid. No matter how many life-risking journeys you make.

"You could say that again," to my surprise, she laughed. Probably another calming technique, but it worked. I laughed too. It was over.

Nico didn't seem as relieved, "The Mormo… I don't understand; these monsters don't exist. How did it get here? Why did it want to kill you?"

I wanted to answer, with a truthful unawareness to the answer, but Ron cut in before me, "I think the better question is how you and Percy knew about the Mormo and how to defeat it," He skittered around the pile of dust, grabbing his wand and tossing Nico's back to him, "I mean, if Hermione doesn't know about it at all? And she's the brightest witch of her age!"

Hermione went a little red at the comment, but I was a bit more annoyed more than anything to mention it, "Hey, it was helpful, wasn't it?"

Nico joined us and unhelpfully said, "Technically, the only bit of information we needed was how to _kill_ it-"

"Now listen here, you little-" I began, before catching myself, "Look, _I_ don't know how I knew that stuff. I just do, okay? It's like the whole water powers. I know about it, but I don't know _how_ I know it."

Ron snorted, pocketing his wand, "Hmph, maybe you were a Roman mythology teacher in your past life or something."

"Greek," I corrected. Hermione cautiously approached the pile of dust that was the Mormo. The dust had already started to lose its form, crumbling into almost nothing.

"It does seem odd that the both of you would suddenly know this information. I mean, I don't doubt your intelligence – either of you – but it seems a bit fishy that she knew your name, Percy."

I couldn't disagree there (especially on the intelligence comment). How did this thing know my name? If she knew that much and was throwing threats in every direction, it meant she knew something more about me that not even I could remember. I'd done something bad – apparently – so what was it that made her attack?

"Maybe I was a rogue mythology teacher?" I asked, but no-one laughed. Not even Ron.

He shrugged, "I guess we won't know how she knew your name. And I think even if we tried to reason with the Mormo, she wouldn't listen. It didn't exactly look like she was in a mood to play tea party and share gossip."

A tea party would be great right about now. I hadn't realised how much that Patronus charm had taken out from me.

"We should probably let Dumbledore know what happened here," said Hermione, "He might be able to give us some guidance."

"Like how he told me exactly who I am and what I'm here for?" I said. I could see Hermione wanting to respond, but she eventually closed her mouth again, defeated. Dumbledore wasn't going to do us any good in this situation. We were on our own.

Hermione opened her mouth again and I thought she'd thought of a clever counter-argument to use, but instead she said, "Thank you, Nico. Without your help we wouldn't have made it." The girl turned to the boy who was just staring hopelessly at the dust. He seemed surprised at her earnest thanks, regarding us all with a bug-eyed stare that only reinforced his creepy eyes. Hermione then nudged Ron roughly in the chest and with a grumble he joined in.

"Yeah, alright. Not bad for a Slytherin."

"A _'slimeball'_ Slytherin," I added, to which Ron shot me a dark look. Nico didn't seem fazed by this remark, nodding and smiling – just a tiny bit.

"Don't mention it," he said. I had a feeling he _literally_ meant what he said, "You and Percy did most of the work, after all."

I noticed Ron huffing a bit at the comment, "How did _you_ know about how to kill it, then?"

Nico shrugged too, "I… I don't know. It just came to me."

"It's not on the curriculum, so I guess you just read around the subject?" input Hermione.

The creepy boy nodded, agreeing that he had just been smart enough to know the answer, but still seemed just as confused as I was. Even if he knew he was Nico di Angelo, Slytherin student with a fascination of ancient mythology, it was still bizarre that both he and I knew about the Mormo and didn't know _why_ we did.

"We should search around," Nico spoke again, breaking the silence, "Maybe the Mormo left some clues for us."

"Good idea," Hermione agreed, using the lighting charm to provide a little light for us to see. Dusk was fast approaching and we sure didn't want to stay here for much longer. I made my way to where the Mormo had landed numerous times and poked at the piles of broken ornaments. Vases, clocks… it was like someone actually used this old shack for a purpose. I don't know why anyone would want to stay here, even for a night – let alone set up shop.

"When we're done this, can we go and find Ginny? I want to be extra sure she's okay," asked Ron. Nico responded immediately, looking up from his spot behind the bed.

"Yes, I agree. I want to make sure she's okay too."

His comment wasn't received well by her brother, but Ron said nothing and instead just glared hard at the ground. Guess it was still difficult to accept that Slytherin oddball Nico could be making-out with peppy and pretty Gryffindor Ginny.

"Hey, Nico," I almost said 'Taco'. That would've been awkward, "Do you like Ginny?"

Ron's head whipped upwards at the words. Nico nodded, quite innocently (bless his soul).

"Of course."

"I meant as _more-than-a-friend_," I prompted, glancing at Ron with a mischievous smirk. Ron was in a glaring tennis match, his head swinging between me and Nico, about ready to rip me apart with his bare teeth. Nico just nodded his head as blankly as he answered the previous question.

"Well, I suppose you could say we were best friends… Why does it matter?"

I could hear Hermione snigger from the pile of rubbish she was inspecting. Who knew Nico was this dense?

Something told me that I couldn't talk. But I decided to ignore that.

"Whatever," Ron muttered, throwing me a final '_shut-up'_ glower before returning to his inspection. I couldn't resist a smirk, about to give up on this area when Ron interrupted the search again, "Merlin's Beard!"

"That's a bit gross," I said, but Ron wasn't finished.

"It's a book! She's burnt a book!"

"What?!" Hermione roared, probably devastated at the idea of burning something as precious as a written passage. The three of us darted to Ron's location (Nico and I with much less gusto), who had swept away more decaying planks of wood to reveal it in all of its glory.

Indeed, a book; the once crisp clean pages burnt to ashes. Soot lay everywhere, barely able to tell it was a book, with only the scathed remnants of a decorated hardback cover remaining to assure us.

"What a horrific thing to do to a book!" Hermione shrilled, annoyed that someone could do this. I wasn't all that fussed, to be honest, although the importance lay on what the book actually had written inside, "What book is it?" She brought her wand closer to the book so she could attempt to read the scorched letters that were once a title.

I gasped. Hermione gasped. Ron gasped. Even Nico gasped, as the title of the book revealed itself under wand light.

_O.. the …gins … Wit…aft and Wizar…_.

Hermione forced the words out, "_On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry._"

=#=#=#=

"Oh my Merlin…" Ron said, as the importance of this discovery seeped into our minds. That conniving jerkbag Mormo just taken away the one link I had to my past – it was the one book that could potentially set me on the right course to finding out the major purpose set by the goddess. If any one of us doubted the significance of the Mormo attack and its relation to me, this could no longer be considered a coincidence.

Hermione picked it up, inspecting every inch of its cracked cover and parched pages to look for anything that give us a slight lead – anything. But it had been barbequed real good.

"No use," Hermione muttered, handing it to Ron to scrutinise, "All of the information in this book has been burnt to nothing. It's charred more than firewood on Guy Fawkes' night."

Ron nodded, handing it to Nico, "Agreed; you aren't gonna' get anything from that book anytime soon, mate."

He was right, for once. This lead was a lost cause. I scowled, regretting my previous casualness concerning the book. If only we'd been less focused on chilling in Hogsmeade and destroying Malfoy's sorry butt in a wizard duel to see what really mattered.

Nico didn't like the look of it either, "It's sad to see this book be eaten up like this, but why this book specifically? Although I guess it's a good thing you said it was a preposterous read, Hermione."

Hermione went red and we two boys felt mighty uncomfortable. Just before, she'd been saying how stupid the book was and how silly and farfetched the theories were… Now we were eating those words. Nico didn't know what the book meant to us now, so we all silently excused him for his naivety towards the matter.

"Well," Hermione said, "I don't think it's an appropriate way to treat a book. We should find it replaced. Maybe Madam Pince can get a new copy somehow… Oh, if only I remembered who it was written by!"

The thought slowly crept into my head. Maybe we could find the person who'd written the book instead of finding another copy of the book. I mean, who knew how many of copies were out there? Maybe hundreds or maybe this was the only one?

"I know who," said Nico nonchalantly, "Regia O. F. Mannes. I remember thinking it was a bizarre name." And _Nico di Angelo_ wasn't? Hermione clicked her fingers.

"Yes, you're right! Regia O. F. Mannes! I haven't read this book in such a long time, clearly," she took the book back from Nico, "Perhaps we should inform Madam Pince on the book's unfortunate circumstances…"

"Tomorrow," I urged. The three looked at me, "We're all tired. I'm tired _and_ disappointed. We should get some sleep."

It was true. I _was_ disappointed. I'd just lost the only link to my past – my friends, family, memories… they were gone due to a single creature burning a book. I had to stay determined – I knew I would find some connection between these events and my life somehow – but where to start? _On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ would have been great, but where _now_? I was allowed to feel a little downtrodden.

Hermione patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, "Don't worry, Percy. We'll figure this out. Even if it takes us a trip to find this Regia O. F. Mannes, wherever in the world she is, we'll find out."

I smiled. Trust Hermione to have faith in me and our abilities to discover more. I turned to Ron, expecting a heated glare for stealing the attention from his beloved, but instead I was greeted with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, dude, don't fret. We'll find out who wants to kill your guts."

And that was a soppy as it was ever going to get.

"Thanks, guys. I think we can do this, too," I said, confidence somewhat improved due to my new friends, "But it'd be nice to know who did want to rip me into pieces… and why."

"Which we can save for tomorrow," Hermione said, beaming, "I am rather fatigued. After first lessons we can visit Madam Pince, alright?"

Nico piped up, "Could you check up on Ginny first though?" Ron stared at him with narrowed eyes but it bounced off of Nico's awareness radar, "I mean, how else would the Mormo know what she sounded like?"

He'd struck a chord there – how _did_ the Mormo know what Ginny Weasley's voice sounded like?

"I think it's time we pay a visit to my sister," said Ron, making his way to the Shack exit.

=#=#=#=

Ginny Weasley was tucked around a book, in red-gold pyjamas and a dressing gown, when we returned to the Gryffindor common room. After slipping away the Invisibility Cloak in my bag along with a probably scrunched-up Marauder's Map, we'd trekked our way to the castle. Ron had obviously enjoyed the walk.

"That's my workout done for the day," he said, heaving a breath when we reached the portrait entrance for the tower. We'd been walking less than ten minutes and Ron was already panting heavily. Either I was in shape or he _really_ wasn't. Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring his remark, as we neared the ginger girl by the fireplace.

We'd left Nico di Creepo outside on the staircase, since he couldn't come into the common room with us. The Fat Lady and numerous Gryffindor students were shooting him evils as we approached, so instead of having him be like a cursed artefact in a museum, we left him outside like an unwanted puppy. He wasn't leaving until we'd done a check on Ginny. No telling what the Fat Lady was doing.

The girl looked up once she spotted Hermione's bushy hair, "Oh. Hi guys, what's up?"

On the way up we'd discussed how we wanted to approach us – a number of times Nico input his say. It was like he knew Ginny better than Ron did.

"Hey, Ginny," Ron started. No doubt, without our carefully crafted script Ron would have went right out there and blatantly asked her, "We just wondered how you were doing."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. I guess it was a bit suspicious, the three of us gliding up to her with our pearly-whites (or pearly-_yellows_ in Ron's case, hahah) brandished, asking how she was. She didn't question it verbally.

"Fine, why?"

Hermione spoke up, "Actually, we were just hoping you were okay with Harry leaving for Salem. Percy said you didn't look too pleased when he bumped into you."

Her gaze turned to me, and I smiled wider. I don't think Ginny was as stupid as Ron said her to be. She pursed her lips, closing her book.

"Well, thanks for the concern Percy, but I'm alright. As long as Harry is enjoying himself wherever he is and comes home soon."

I gulped, feeling a bit bad for Ginny. Hermione had informed me that she had a crush that was larger than life on the boy, which was currently unrequited, and that talk around him being a rather eligible bachelor was a touchy subject for her. We didn't want to delve into Harry too much in her presence, for fear of setting of a woman-rage mode.

"Good to hear," I said, stifling a yawn, "Listen, I wondered if there has been anyone talking to you that you hadn't met before? That Malfoy guy has been trying to prank me since my legendary win against him."

Details of that fateful duel had since become rumours. I, Hermione and Ron had all refused to talk about it with anyone else, since I wasn't keen on everyone being in on my unique water powers. It was unnatural, to say the least, and I really didn't need any more attention than I had right now. We did, however, let everyone know in shouts and screams that I'd completed _washed him away_ with my win.

Needless to say, Malfoy and his lot weren't going to say anything either since they were hardly going to brag about their collective loss.

The ginger girl stood up and smoothed out her dressing gown, "No, not that I know- Oh, wait, actually, there was this one time where this really weird student came up to me in the corridors." She scrunched her face remembering the encounter, looking just like Ron did when he was thinking, "She was weird, asking me how I was. I thought it was harmless conversation until she _pinched_ me. I had half a mind to report her to McGonagall until I realised I didn't actually know _who_ she was."

"What did she look like?" Ron asked.

"Couldn't tell you much since she hid her face with her black cloak well, but she was really pale. _Deathly_ pale. Raspy kind of voice, too. Maybe she was ill."

"Why that little-" Ron scorned, to catch himself before he blurted out everything, "-_snot_. That little snot, _Malfoy_. Probably got a first-year and cast a Voice-Alteration spell or sommin'…"

It was a good save on Ron's part. Ginny nodded with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, well, whatever. It was only a pinch on my arm – no blood or anything. I don't understand why he wouldn't want to prank _you_ Percy, since you're the one who handed him his butt on a platter. But whatever, I'll take one for the team."

"Thanks, Ginny. We should plan our revenge prank on him," I spoke robotically to Ron and Hermione, who caught my implications.

Ron said, "Good idea Percy," before grabbing Hermione by the arm and dragging her away, "No arguing this time!"

I had to stifle a laugh as she pretended to struggle against his grip and protest at the idea of avenging Ginny's sore arm. Even Ginny looked mildly amused.

"Just don't get into trouble, alright, Percy?"

With a smile I said, "You have my word."

She beamed back, before leaving for her dormitory. There were still a few Gryffindors mulling around, probably trying to stay awake for as long as the curfew allowed us. Apart from them, the room was quiet. This allowed us time to discuss the situation.

"So that nasty ugly smelly Mormo-thing attacked my sister just to get an idea of her yelping and screaming, huh? That's low. _So_ low," Ron said, stewing over Ginny's frightful encounter. Hermione frowned, flicking back some of her hair after her fake act of rebellion.

"Just be grateful it didn't attack her outright. The Mormo broke into Hogwarts somehow, took that book, learnt Ginny's voice and then hid in the Shack to impersonate her, burn the book and trap us."

"And attempt to kill me," I added helpfully.

"And we still don't know _why_," she said.

We stood in silence for a few moments, contemplating the events. I started to seriously believe I had been a rogue Greek mythology teacher in my past.

"Holy cricket! Nico!" Hermione suddenly shrilled. She blasted out of the room to inform the Slytherin about the current state of Ginny's welfare.

Once out of earshot, Ron spoke, "I still don't trust that kid, you know. He just seems… dodgy. C'mon, I can't be the only one?"

Part of me wanted to agree with him, part of me did not. While, yes, he did seem creepy and shifty and kinda' scary looking, it was that piece of information on 'happy thoughts' back at the Shack had really helped us to defeat the Mormo. Without it, we'd all probably be down in the Fields of Punishment by now.

"I don't know, man; he _did_ save our skins back at the Shack. If he wanted us dead, he'd have let the Mormo come for us."

Ron grunted in agreement, "Still doesn't seem like he belongs here."

To be honest, it felt like Nico didn't even belong in this world, let alone Hogwarts. It might have been because I recognised him and I had an inkling I didn't belong here, either. Both of us seemed like the odd-ones-out, displaced from our true societies. At least I had the social skills and acceptable appearance – Nico's look turned many people away.

But there were good people like Hermione and Ginny who were willing to give him a chance, despite his looks. Guess it goes to show you can't judge a movie by its trailer.

"But anyway," Ron continued, "He's not the real problem though right now. It's that monster we should be worried about. I know it's dead and gone, but who says more things can't come for you? We might not be so lucky next time."

Way to go with the doom and gloom, Ron. Unfortunately, what he said was right – when was the next thing going to come? Tonight? Tomorrow? A week? Never again? I didn't want anyone else being hurt on my account.

"The Mormo took the book from the library to burn it _and_ she knew my name… That means it must have known we were looking for it. It must have known that the book was a key to my past…"

Ron caught up, eyes lighting like a kid at Christmas, "And in destroying it… delays your hopes of finding out who you were!"

"Exactly," We'd hit a crucial point in our thinking. The only question left was…

"_Why_ did it want to delay? What did I do in my past that was so horrific?"

Ron considered these words for a second, before shrugging, "No idea, mate. It's strange how it wanted to kill you and burn the book… If she was going to kill you, what was the point?"

"You and Hermione and Nico," I responded immediately, as thoughts started to clear, "She didn't kill me but the book's dead, so even if I died, you'd be left without answers. Since I survived, I don't know what was in the book either. No matter what, the Mormo wanted none of the mist to be cleared."

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open at that moment and in climbed Hermione again, just as we could see the back of Nico stepping down the stairs back to his own common room.

"He's been told," she said with a gentle smile, "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed before any other trouble decides to brew today. Have a good night."

"Wait, Herms!" I said, which halted her in her tracks, "The Mormo. It burnt the book to make sure I didn't remember who I am, Ron and I have figured out. It wanted me to stop knowing who I am, so it can hinder me doing something somehow."

Hermione inhaled this recent information, scratching her chin like she had a beard and thinking deeply. Her facial expressions once again reminded me of someone who also was intelligent, smart… A wise girl…

"It makes sense. She did want to kill you, after all," she said eventually, taking a deep breath and snapping me from my thoughts, "I don't want to overthink it too much as we have to rise early tomorrow for lessons. Maybe if you sleep on it, Percy, you'll have a 'magical epiphany'."

"I _am_ totally bushed," I said with a grin, following the two of them as they treaded up the steps to the dormitories. As much as I wanted to dwell further on my problem, my eyes were beginning to droop, "I guess sleep isn't a bad idea."

Ron yawned, "Yeah, I'm knackered. Night, Hermione."

She smiled and said, "Good night Ron, Percy," before bounding up to her dorm room and leaving us to ours.

=#=#=#=

I hardly paid much attention the lessons that next morning – my mind consumed by thoughts of the Mormo, the book and going home. I wanted more desperately than ever to remember who I was and just leave Hogwarts behind – as much as I'd miss the fun times I had here. The book would tell me who I really was and what I was doing here. I must have had some sort of purpose, right?

If there was the choice, though, I'd much rather go home. Hermione and Ron were two good people and deserved to do well in their futures, but their futures didn't include me. I wanted to go home – to America, at least. Maybe that'd jog my memories. I didn't fit in here, in Scotland.

I didn't think it was a realistic goal, though. For some reason I knew flying was a really, _really_ bad idea. And that took half a day at most, so any other way would probably take twice as long. Not to mention I'd have no idea what to do after that. Hermione and Ron wouldn't be able to tag along either. I'd be on my own – an amnesiac kid running around JFK International Airport having no idea where to go or what to do next. Pleasant imagery.

Only at certain times during the schooling hours did I start to become more focused, like when Professor Burbage knocked my head with a book for sleeping or Professor Trelawney shoved her bug-eyed face in mine and yelled "DEEEEAAAATH!". When lunch hit, I couldn't be more awake (although after the whole 'DEEEEAAAATH' scene I think it would be hard to fall asleep) so the three of us hit the library by storm.

Madam Pince was furiously scribbling away on some parchment when we arrived at her desk. Her hair was scrunched tightly into a bun with about five purple quills poking into it. When Hermione approached quietly and cleared her throat for attention, Madam Pince's wild gaze flew upwards, her eyes sunken and her skin like old leather.

"Yes?" she snapped, flickering her gaze towards Ron and I floating behind our companion. She didn't look pleased, probably remembering our last time in the library. Hermione smiled as sweetly as she could.

"I would like to enquire about a book. _On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry_, specifically."

Madam Pince's withering eyebrows raised on her head and her gaze returned to Hermione, "I've never heard it."

"P-pardon?" the girl stuttered, as Ron and I exchanged worried looks.

"You heard me correctly, Miss Granger. No such book exists in my library."

Hermione glanced back at us; at me. I shook my head, having no idea what to do myself. We'd seen the book with our own eyes, along with Nico di Creepo, so we couldn't be imagining it.

"But I took it out with your permission a couple of years ago," Hermione argued, "It was written by Regia O. F. Mannes."

Madam Pince grunted, "I haven't heard of her, either. And I don't recall you taking out such a book. I can't help you, now if you'll excuse me!" Her head focused back on her parchment and Madam Pince continued to write whatever she was writing. It was obvious she was done talking.

Hermione treaded back to us, equally confused.

"But… but how is that possible?" Ron whispered, glaring at Madam Pince, "Maybe she's lying."

"What reason would she have for lying?" Hermione countered with a sigh, "The book doesn't exist… But… But I remember taking it out, reading it for fun…"

"Maybe we're crazy?" Ron spoke.

It almost seemed like we were part of a nightmare. The key to my past was never part of this library; it never existed – well, it did, but… it didn't.

"So the book and Regia what's-her-face don't exist, but you remember taking it out, Ron and I remember looking at it and Nico would probably remember looking for it. So we're not crazy. This is just getting spooky…"

"You're right. This _is_ spooky… And more serious than we thought it to be," Hermione looked over at the section the book had once rested, "I definitely remember checking that book out. I'll try to recall everything written in it but it was such a long time ago that I don't think I'll be able to glean much. But we know that we have to research something to do with how witches and wizards originated."

"Hold on," said Ron, whose face was scrunched up in his _think-hard_ kinda' way, "Percy, didn't you remember something yesterday? Something about a red tick..?"

"…What?" Red ticks on my work were the _last_ thing on my mind right now.

He frowned, "Something about a red tick. You know, when you jumped up from breakfast one morning and yelled it."

My eyes widened, "Riptide! You mean, Riptide?"

Ron grinned, "That's the one!"

"SHUSH!" Madam Pince shrilled, causing us to return to hushed whispers again.

Hermione remembered it too, "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that! Riptide… um…" Without another moment's notice, Hermione bounded straight up to Madam Pince and attacked her with her questions. Madam Pince annoyed glare met her curious gaze, and pointed a bony finger in the direction of one of the aisles.

Hermione proceeded to stride to the aisle she pointed too, not even bothering to wait for Ron or I to catch up to her antics.

"One of these books…" she muttered, scanning the shelves for something.

"One of these books is going to tell us what it is, right?" I asked hopefully. Hermione didn't bother answering, which was alright, because I knew I was right. I was finally going to remember something.

"Don't just stand there like a bunch of wallys," Hermione suddenly snapped, looking up at us two with narrowed eyes, "Help me look for a book on Hercules."

"Hercules?" My question was largely ignored as Hermione went straight back to work, and Ron sullenly joined in. The aisle was huge – it could be anywhere.

"Found it!" Hermione piped, trailing her hand down the spine of a particularly withered book. I rolled my eyes – of course Herms would find it in a heartbeat – and scuttled over to where she was. Ron did too. In her hand, like every book in this library seemed to be, was an old and aged book held together by a weakening spine. The front was rather dusty from sitting on the shelf for so long.

"Jeez, this book better not disappear on us too," I said dryly, examining the cover. A picture of a sculpture was the front, depicting a bunch of old naked Greek dudes. Ron cringed as Hermione read the cover.

"_The Labours of Hercules_, by P. Sander," she said, "This ought to tell us about Riptide." The tension was clawing at my neck, so she didn't hesitate to open the book. It was full of posh writing, inked and barely legible. There was a collective groan from Hermione and Ron.

It was written all in Greek.

Hermione gripped the pages and scrunched her face, "Now why would the title and author be in English when the rest isn't? How are we meant to read this?"

But the words on the page made sense to me. I could read them – the meaning escaped me, but I could read the words and change them into English.

"Pass the book," Hermione did as I asked, handing it callously to me and crossing her arms.

"Great," Ron muttered, flinging his arms up, "Another lead down the toilet. We skipped lunch for this?"

"Not so fast," I said, flicking the book to the last page. Just as I'd hoped, there was an index, filled the the brim with more Greek terminology that I could ever comprehend. Scanning the words, I looked for something that was familiar. Not Riptide, but the Greek equivalent…

"Ah-nack-luzz-mos… Anaklusmos…" I read aloud, "It means Riptide in Greek." I wasn't looking up but I could feel Hermione and Ron staring with disbelief.

"Wait, you can read that?!" Hermione hissed as I followed the reference number, "You can read ancient Greek?"

"_Naí_- er, _yes_. I can read this…" There I was, thinking I couldn't read for toffee when all along I was reading the wrong material, "Anaklusmos… There!" I pointed dramatically to a Greek word that clearly yelled _Anaklusmos_ to me, but was a bunch of random Greek letters to the other two.

"How… how are you-..?" Hermione shook herself off, "You know what, never mind. Just read the paragraph."

My throat cleared, "_In his eleventh labour_, _Hercules used the sword _Anaklusmos_ to defeat Ladon, a hundred-headed dragon who guarded _TheGarden of Hesperides_. The tree of golden apples of immortality resided there. Using _Anaklusmos_, Hercules was able to defeat the dragon and steal an apple. It is able to draw power for the ocean waters._"

Even as the words flowed out of my mouth, memories started to reconnect. Networks formed and many things flashed inside my head, like mini-explosions. I felt overwhelmed by the amount I was recalling. Riptide was a sword… _my _sword. It transformed from a plain ballpoint pen… A pen given to me… Wherever I went, whatever bad thing I'd encounter, Riptide would be at my beck and call. I remembered one other important detail too.

"Hercules is a jerkface."

Hermione sprang with delight, "I knew it sounded familiar! Riptide was Hercules' sword! So… so what does it mean?"

There was no longer any doubt, my voice rippled with confidence, "Riptide's my sword. I've used it before."

Hermione's euphoria died and she turned paler than a sheet, while Ron's frown deepened.

"But mythology's exactly what it is on the tin – _myths and legends and rumours_! How could you have had the sword before?"

It was my turn to frown, "I don't know… but the sword is mine. I've used it. It's disguised as a ballpoint pen." My hands went instinctively to my pockets, but they were empty save from used tissues, "It's meant to appear in my pocket when I lose it…"

Ron just flung his arms up again, shaking his head in disbelief, "This is ridiculous. You own a sword that's now a _Muggle pen _used by an ancient old dude who never existed. You're bloody nuts."

I glared at him, "The _bloody nuts _I am. I'm certain that Riptide is mine," I glanced back at the book before regarding him with a wary stare, "I'm able to read this, aren't I? Isn't that enough proof?"

Ron faltered; I'd caught him there.

"_Stop_, okay? Bickering won't get us anywhere," Hermione commanded. Ron dropped his glare and I shut the book with uncertainty, "Alright, fine. I believe you, Percy."

Ron wasn't impressed, "You can't be serious, Hermione?"

She turned to him, stony-faced, "I _do_, Ronald. We've had weird encounters with water manipulation and monsters of mythology… _and_ he can read Greek while he doesn't remember _anything_ else; I think that's enough to sway me."

I grinned so widely and let the happiness that welled inside me. Hermione was just awesome. I couldn't resist flinging my arms around her in a huge hug. She really was an irreplaceable friend who had faith in me even though I'd just woken up in her best friend's bed – so I had every reason to return the favour in the form of bone-crushing squeeze of friendliness. Ron was practically steaming on the spot.

"Can't… breathe…" Hermione choked, so I let the girl go and flashed another grin.

"Thank you Herms – you have no idea what it means to me."

Our gazes shifted to Ron, arms crossed and pose rigid. He didn't look like he wanted to believe me. He didn't look like he even wanted to _know_ me. He didn't accept my claim when I'd said I'd lost my memories, and now he didn't accept my claim when I'd said I'd remembered some of them. You couldn't win with this boy.

Eventually, he caved, rolling his eyes and heaving a large sigh.

"Yeah, alright, it's all a bit fishy but I guess you are yourself. Maybe you're a descendant of the ancient old Greek hero or whatever…"

I took 'being fishy' as a compliment, giving him a thumbs-up of appreciation. Meanwhile, Hermione beamed.

"That's the spirit, Ron!" She hugged him too. One second he looked reluctant to even be here and the next his face had melted with the warmth of Hermione's hold. His face had burst into a colour as red as his hair. I grinned mischievously and waggled my eyebrows, but he shot me a look that clearly and blatantly said '_shut up'_.

Once Hermione let go, Ron returned to Mr Stoic-Face and attempted to hide his blushing trouble. He did so rather well, "So, now that Percy owns a pen-slash-sword, can we go eat now?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, we can work it all out over roast beef." The very words made my mouth water.

"Yum," was all I input.

We started our journey back to the Great Hall, discussing theories on how Riptide could have been passed down my family (if I were his descendant) to found on the street. Madam Pince shot us the evillest of glowers as we made our exit, but honestly, I was too euphoric (and hungry) to care. Filling my belly could possibly bring forth new memories on Riptide and who gave it to me, since I was in a little doubt about being Hercules' ancestor.

He was a jerkface, after all.

Our voyage to the Great Hall was halted when we met Dean Thomas in the middle of the hallway. He looked frantic, and immediately, I knew something was wrong.

"There you guys are," he said, with a frown, "I've got some bad news."

"What?" I asked, "What bad news? If it's about Snape-"

"It's worse," Dean cut through, seriousness dripping from his words, "It's Neville… He's gone missing."

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Le gasp! What has happened?! We're actually advancing now...

... I think I have mastered Uncle Rick's masterful use of suspenseful cliffhanger endings. XP

This was 7,500 words on Word so I hope you all enjoyed every part of it! Thanks to all the favourites and reviews; and please leave a review on this one so I know I haven't gone off-track!

Until next time,

~ GD

PS. SOM DJGHDKJNGDNHGHG I CAN'T. Find me on tumblr greenwithawesome. tumblr. com ;)


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